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I 


LETTERS 


ON 


FEMALE    CHARACTER, 


ADDRESSED  TO 


&   ¥OtW0   2UtT£, 


DEATH   OF  HER  MOTHER 


BY   MRS.   VIRGINIA   CARY. 


Let  others  fly  to  pleasure's  distant  dome ; 

Be  mine  the  dearer  task  to  please  at  home. 

HALEY'S  Triumphs  of  Temper. 
!  Thy  husband  shall  have  rule  over  thee."    Gen.  iii.  16. 
1  The  price  of  a  virtuous  woman  is  far  above  rubies."    Prov.  xxxi.  10. 
1  Favour  is  deceitful,  and  beauty  is  vain :  but  a  woman  that  feareth  the  Lord, 
s  shall  be  praised."    Prov.  xxxi.  30. 


SECOND   EDITION-ENLARGED, 


125523 


PUBLISHED    BY  ARIEL   WORKS. 

PHILADELPHIA TOWAK,  J.  &  P.  M.  HOGAN. 

1830. 


Eastern  District  of  Virginia,  to  wit  : 

Be  it  remembered,  that  on  the  fourth  day  of  January,  in  the 
fifty-fourth  year  of  the  Independence  of  the  United  States  of 
America,  Ariel  Works,  of  the  said  district,  hath  deposited  in  this 
office,  the  title  of  a  book,  the  right  whereof  he  claims  as  proprietor, 
in  the  words  following-,  to  wit  : 

"  Letters  on  Female  Character,  addressed  to  a  Young  Lady,  on 
the  Death  of  her  Mother.     By  Mrs.  Virginia  Cary. 

'Let  others  fly  to  pleasure's  distant  dome, 
•  Be  mine  the  dearer  task  to  please  at  home.' 

Ealeifs  Triumphs  of  Temper. 
;Thy  husband  shall  have  rule  over  thee.'    Gen.  iii.  16. 
'  The  price  of  a  viri  uous  woman  is  far  above  rubies.'    Prov.  xxxi.  10. 
'Favour  is  deceitful,  and  beauty  is  vain:  but  a  woman  that  feaieth  the  Lord, 
she  shall  be  praised.'    Prov.  xxxi.  30. 

Second  Edition — Enlarged." 

In  conformity  to  the  act  of  the  Congress  of  the  United  States, 
entitled  "  An  act  for  the  encouragement  of  learning,  by  securing 
the  copies  of  Maps,  Charts,  and  Books,  to  the  Authors  and 
Proprietors  of  such  copies,  during  the  time  therein  mentioned." 

RD.  JEFFRIES, 
Clerk  of  the  Eastern  District  of  Virginia. 


&,&■■•■    A  CARD- 

The  reader  is  requested  to  bear  in  mind,  that  the 
little  work  here  offered  for  perusal,  was  undertaken 
at  the  particular  request  of  some  Christian  friends, 
who  proposed  "  Bennett's  Letters,"  as  a  general 
model  to  the  author.  In  consequence  of  this  limita- 
tion in  her  plan,  she  has  given  some  sketches  of 
character  illustrative  of  her  precepts,  after  the  manner 
of  Dr.  B.  These  are  drawn  from  a  general,  and  not  an 
individual  acquaintance  with  human  nature  *,  and 
many  of  the  most  striking  warnings  are  derived  from 
the  author's  own  experience  of  the  evils  inherent  in 
her  own  nature.  In  no  single  instance  has  she  drawn 
a  real  likeness  in  all  its  parts,  from  any  living  example, 
though  she  has  sketched  traits  of  character  which 
are  common  to  many  persons  of  her  acquaintance. 

She  gives  this  little  explanation  in  consequence  of 
her  having  been  told  by  censorious  people,  that  her 
characters  bore  so  strong  a  resemblance  to  persons  of 
their  acquaintance,  that  they  were  convinced  she 
meant  to  hold  them  up  to  public  contempt.  None 
could  have  cast  this  imputation  but  those  utterly 
unacquainted  with  the  author's  real  character,  or 
her  true  motives  in  writing  this  work ;  and  she  is  con- 
vinced, that  those  capable  of  appreciating  motives  of 
Christian  duty,  and  a  desire  for  Christian  usefulness, 
will  acquit  her  of  so  odious  a  charge. 


125523 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 
in  2011  with  funding  from 
Duke  University  Libraries 


http://www.archive.org/details/lettersonfemalecOOcary 


DEDICATION. 


The  Second  Edition  of  "Letters  on  Female 
Character,"  is  respectfully  dedicated  to  the  Rev. 
Stephen  Taylor,  Pastor  of  the  Presbyterian 
Church  on  Shochoe  Hill,  in  the  City  of  Richmond. 

The  author  takes  this  method  of  evincing  her 
grateful  sense  of  the  disinterested  support  awarded 
to  her  by  Mr.  Taylor,  under  circumstances  of  pecu- 
liar delicacy  and  embarrassment.  Whilst  those 
from  whom  she  expected  encouragement  in  her 
humble  effort  at  Christian  usefulness,  shrunk  from 
the  smallest  testimony  of  approbation,  Mr.  Taylor 
soothed  her  timid  embarrassment  by  avowing  a  full 
appreciation  of  her  motives,  and  a  cordial  approval 
of  her  undertaking.  In  other  words,  he  encouraged 
the  poor  widow  to  drop  her  two  mites  into  the 
treasury  of  the  Lord,  instead  of  scorning  so  poor  an 
offering. 

The  "  Letters"  are  considerably  altered  and 
enlarged,  and  the  author  humbly  trusts  they  will  be 
found  rather  more  worthy  of  the  public  attention  than 
the  first  edition.  She  has  not  proceeded  without 
deep  and  prayerful  consideration  of  her  subject, 
neither  has  she  thus  intruded  herself  on  the  public 
A2 


vi  DEDICATION. 

attention  without  satisfactory  evidence  that  this 
particular  path  of  duty  has  been  chosen  for  her  by 
Him  who  makes  use  of  all  his  creatures  as  seemeth 
good  unto  him.  She  dares  not  withhold  her  one 
talent  at  a  time  when  so  much  is  doing,  and  so  much 
is  to  be  done  for  the  cause  supremely  dear  to  her 
heart,  lest  it  should  be  taken  from  her  and  given  to 
him  who  hath  ten  talents. 


CONTENTS. 


Introduction,     -.-        -        .        -       .-        -        -        -        ix 

LETTER  I. 
Consolations  of  Religion, 13 

LETTER  II. 
Piety  Indispensable  to  Females, 19 

LETTER  III. 
Female  Piety  Exemplified  in  the  Characters  of  a  Mother 
and  Daughter,        --- 26 

LETTER  IV. 
Definition  of  Charity, 33 

LETTER  V. 

Women  defended  from  the  charge  of  Instability,  40 

LETTER  VI. 
Danger  of  associating"  with  amiable  Females  who  are  without 
Religion, 51 

LETTER  VII. 
Mistakes  in  Religion, 56 

LETTER  VIII. 
Influence  of  Religion  on  the  Temper,       ....        63 

LETTER  IX. 

Exemplifications  of  Good  and  Bad  Temper,  72 

LETTER  X. 
False  Sensibility  Exemplified, 81 

LETTER  XI. 
Picture  of  Domestic  Happiness, 88 

LETTER  XII. 
On  Dress,         ---------94 

LETTER  XIII. 
Promiscuous  Dancing"  Assemblies, 103 


yiii  CONTENTS. 

LETTER  XIV. 
On  Dramatic  Representations, 114 

LETTER  XV. 
On  Prayer, 120 

LETTER  XVI. 
On  Economy, 125 

LETTER  XVII. 
Importance  of  Little  Thir.g-s, 131 

LETTER  XVIII. 
Sabbath  Privileges, 135 

LETTER  XIX. 
On  Conformity  of  Manners  to  the  Period  of  Life  which  we  are 
Passing-, 140 

LETTER  XX. 
On  The  Distribution  of  Time, 145 

LETTER  XXI. 

Manners,  the  Result  of  Intellectual  Cultivation,  -        -       151 

LETTER  XXII. 
On  Friendship, 160 

LETTER  XXIII. 
On  Romance  and  Poetry, 167 

LETTER  XXIV. 
Self-Deception  Exemplified, 175 

LETTER  XXV. 

Female  Attainments  in  Science  and  Literature,  -        -       183 

LETTER  XXVI. 
Misery  of  Discordant  Marriages,         -  188 

LETTER  XXVII. 
Prevailing  Errors  in  Female  Education,     -  196 

LETTER  XXVIII. 
Domestic  Management, 202 

LETTER  XXIX. 
Submission  to  the  Divine  Will, 209 

LETTER  XXX. 
Conclusion, 215 


INTRODUCTION. 


In  this  age  of  intellectual  improvement,  women  have  been 
admitted  to  a  liberal  participation  of  intellectual  privileges. 
The  lights  of  science  and  knowledge  have  been  suffered  to 
penetrate  the  night  of  ignorance,  in  which  custom  and 
prejudice  had  enveloped  the  female  mind.  There  exists 
no  longer  that  watchful  jealousy  of  every  step  towards 
emancipation,  which  once  made  man  the  tyrant  and  op- 
pressor of  his  feminine  coadjutor.  Women  hold  their 
appropriate  station  in  the  scale  of  being,  without  contention. 
They  are  allowed  to  mingle  freely  in  the  minor  concerns 
of  the  social  compact,  and  have  full  scope  afforded  to  their 
latent  energies.  Their  minds  are  no  longer  cramped  by 
rigid,  domestic  discipline,  but  soar  above  the  narrow  limits 
of  family  avocations,  and  catch  a  glimpse  of  those  lights 
hitherto  reserved  for  their  master  spirits.  The  consequences 
of  this  partial  illumination,  are  fraught  with  beneficial 
effects  to  social  life.  Man  has  truly  a  help  meet,  and  woman 
is  fulfilling  her  destiny  according  to  the  original  design  of 
her  Maker. 

But  these  advantages  are  liable  to  abuse,  from  those 
erring  spirits,  who  grasp  at  more  than  their  allotted  portion 
of  power.  Some  aspiring  females  are  not  content  to  retain 
any  vestige  of  subordination  to  the  anointed  lords  of  the 
creation.  They  aim  at  equality  of  rights ;  in  other  words, 
at  absolute  dominion  :  for  it  will  be  found,  that  whenever 
man  consents  to  this  illegal  usurpation  of  equal  privileges, 
he  inevitably  prepares  himself  for  yielding,  and  his  compa- 


X  INTRODUCTION. 

nion  for  asserting,  despotic  authority.  Let  us  refer  to  such 
individual  instances  of  a  struggle  for  supremacy,  as  may 
have  fallen  under  our  observation,  for  the  truth  of  this 
assertion.  But  when  woman  breaks  down  the  barrier  erected 
by  Omnipotence  around  her,  she  renders  herself  liable  to 
the  full  penalty  of  God's  violated  law.  She  was  formed  for 
man,  and  therefore  must  continue  in  contented  subordina- 
tion to  his  authority.  As  she  was  first  in  the  transgression, 
it  is  additionally  incumbent  on  her  to  make  up  to  man,  by 
dutiful  obedience,  for  the  evil  she  has  occasioned  him.  It 
was  for  her  oflVnce  that  he  was  banished  from  his  home  of 
bliss.  This  thought  should  cast  down  her  high  aspirations, 
and  stimulate  her  to  endure  contentedly  a  lot  which  is 
sweetened  by  many  mercies. 

That  man  is  capable  of  exalted  respect  and  affection  for 
his  female  companion,  is  clearly  exemplified  in  the  history 
of  our  first  parents.  "  The  woman  tempted  me,  and  I  did 
eat,"  was  Adam's  excuse  for  disobedience;  it  is  therefore 
plain,  that  man  was  intuitively  impressed  with  a  high  idea 
of  the  importance  of  his  helpmeet.  The  Lord  implanted 
this  feeling  in  his  nature,  as  a  guarantee  for  the  safety  of 
the  weaker  sex.  Man  still  retains  this  sense  of  regard  and 
respectful  observance,  in  all  nations  where  God  is  wor- 
shipped. Among  the  heathen,  a  contrary  practice  is  well 
known  to  predominate  ;  a  strong  evidence  that  woman  owes 
to  her  JMaker,  the  attention  she  receives  from  her  partner 
on  earth. 

In  our  happy  country,  the  female  sex  are  just  beginning 
to  participate  in  the  benefits  of  rapidly  progressing  refine- 
ment. Education,  such  as  deserves  the  name,  is  beginning 
to  draw  forth  the  innate  energies  of  the  female  mind.  It 
should  be  the  object  of  all  who  really  aim  at  moral  improve- 
ment, to  assist  in  developing  the  faculties  of  so  large  a 
portion  of  the  human  race.  To  train  women  for  usefulness 
is  the  object  of  the  following  little  unpretending  work.     Ii* 


INTRODUCTION.  xj 

it  they  will  find  their  appropriate  duties  explained,  and 
their  prevailing  foibles  noticed.  They  will  find,  it  is  to  be 
hoped,  much  to  encourage  them  to  virtuous  exertion,  and 
little  to  stimulate  that  vanity  which  is  said  to  be  their 
rightful  inheritance.  The  rising  generation  are  now  under 
female  dominion.  As  the  twig  is  bent  in  their  hands,  so 
will  the  patriarch  of  the  forest  incline,  when  years  have 
spread  his  branches  to  the  clouds.  The  peculiar  difficulties 
of  our  southern  housewives,  are  taken  into  consideration 
in  the  following  pages,  and  a  few  hints  offered  to  their 
acceptance. 

All  the  domestic  arts  admit  of  improvement  from  the 
combined  energy  and  ingenuity  of  female  genius.  When 
it  is  considered  how  short  a  portion  of  a  short  life  can 
be  devoted  to  the  pursuit  of  pleasure,  it  is  surely  the  part 
of  wisdom  to  dispense  entirely  with  that  disqualifying  era, 
that  the  mind  may  give  its  undivided  energies  to  the  cause 
of  virtue.  If  the  female  who  peruses  this  page  is  a  devotee 
of  fashion — a  votary  of  pleasure, — I  would  here  solemnly 
inquire  of  her,  in  the  name  of  her  Maker  and  Redeemer, 
what  are  her  expectations  in  the  life  to  come?  When  she 
stands  before  the  judgment  seat,  and  lakes  a  hurried  retro- 
spect of  past  years,  how  will  her  present  pursuits  appear? 
What  benefit  will  then  accrue  from  her  triumphs  of  vanity ; 
from  her  indulgences  of  sense;  from  the  trifling,  flippant 
pursuits  which  have  wasted  precious  time,  and  degraded 
precious  talents?  Let  her  now  pause,  and  reflect  that  she 
can,  by  an  instantaneous  recantation  of  error,  avert  inevit- 
able ruin.  She  can  turn  while  it  is  to-day,  and  prepare  for 
that  eternity  which  may,  perchance,  commence  to  morrow. 
If  this  hint  should  arrest  one  wanderer  from  the  path  of 
reason  and  rectitude,  the  author  will  have  cause  to  pour 
forth  rejoicings  for  ever  to  him  who  condesecnds  to  aid  the 
feeble  efforts  of  his  creatures.  The  following  anecdote  will 
suffice  to  close  this  brief  notice. 


Xii  INTRODUCTION. 

A  votary  of  fashion  once  adorned  herself  splendidly  for 
a  ball.  On  her  way  to  the  scene  of  folly,  she  was  accosted 
by  a  miserable  object,  who  implored  bread  to  keep  him 
from  starvation.  "  I  have  no  money,"  said  the  lady ;  the 
wretched  creature  passed  on.  At  the  ball,  an  intense  pain 
smote  the  temples  of  the  young  female,  who  was  carried  to 
her  bed  in  delirium.  After  a  severe  illness,  she  recovered  to 
a  new  state  of  feeling  and  thinking.  She  declared  that  during 
her  delirium  she  saw  the  beggar  in  Abraham's  bosom,  and 
called  to  him  for  a  drop  of  water  to  cool  her  parched  tongue; 
that  he  heard  her  cry,  and  came,  bidding  her  beware  lest 
the  gulf  which  could  not  be  crossed,  should  open  before  he 
came  again. 


LETTERS 

ON 

FEMALE    CHARACTER. 


LETTER  I. 

Consolations  of  Religion. 


My  Dear  Mary, 

Your  present  situation  excites  my  keenest  sympathy, 
and  awakens  in  my  heart  an  earnest  desire  to  do  something 
for  you,  that  will  prove  my  disinterested  affection.  The 
loss  you  have  sustained,  by  the  removal  of  your  beloved 
mother  to  a  better  world,  must  always  be  severely  felt,  even 
when  time  and  resignation  have  subdued  the  violence  of 
natural  grief.  You  will  perhaps  feel  the  want  of  her  guid- 
ance more,  as  you  advance  towards  the  busy  season  of  life, 
than  in  the  helpless  period  of  childhood.  I  will  therefore 
endeavour  to  set  before  you  some  of  those  precepts,  by  which 
she  formed  a  character  of  no  ordinary  worth  and  excellence. 
She  was,  in  the  strictest  sense  of  the  word,  a  Christian,  and 
she  expressed  in  her  dying  moments,  a  perfect  resignation  to 
the  will  of  Him,  who  had  seen  fit  to  deprive  you  of  a  monitor, 
at  the  most  critical  season  of  life.  "  My  friend,"  said  she  to 
me,  while  her  countenance  already  partook  of  the  seraphic 
expression  of  the  disembodied  saints — "  my  friend,  to  human 
wisdom  it  might  seem  strange,  that  my  child  should  be  left 
alone,  when  she  will  most  need  a  mother's  care ;  but  to  me, 
nothing  is  strange,  that  divine  wisdom  sees  fit  to  dictate. 
B 


14  LETTER  I. 

Since  it  is  His  will,  I  leave  her  apparently  without  protec- 
tion, secure  in  that  unseen  mercy  that  hovers  over  the  forlorn 
and  destitute.  I  waste  not  a  conjecture  on  her  probable 
destiny.  I  have  too  long  trusted  my  Heavenly  Parent,  to 
need  further  assurances  of  his  unchangeable  goodness.  My 
child  is  as  safe  under  his  protection,  as  if  hosts  of  friends  and 
kindred  were  contending  for  the  office  of  befriending  the 
orphan,  when  her  mother  shall  have  entered  into  heavenly 
rest." — Never  did  I  see  a  more  beautiful  exemplification  of 
the  promise  which  she  repeated  with  a  smile  of  rapture,  as 
she  breathed  her  last  sigh — li  I  will  keep  him  in  perfect 
peace,  whose  mind  is  stayed  on  me.'7  Yes,  my  dear  Mary, 
these  were  the  last  words  of  your  sainted  parent ;  and  it  is 
my  earnest  prayer,  that  you  may  be  enabled  to  bind  them  as 
a  talisman  to  your  heart,  and  make  them  the  law  of  your 
future  life.  Since,  then,  it  has  pleased  a  being  of  infinite 
mercy,  to  remove  your  protectress  from  you,  it  becomes 
your  duty,  or  rather  I  will  term  it  your  privilege,  to  receive 
the  full  assurance,  that  he  will  supply  her  place  to  you,  in 
such  a  time  and  manner  as  he  may  deem  expedient. 

You  are  not  desolate,  for  Omnipotence  itself  is  pledged  to 
protect  you,  and  you  have  only  to  stand  still,  and  see  the 
salvation  of  God.  Let  me  entreat  you,  then,  to  begin  in  the 
vernal  season  of  life,  to  lav  up  stores  for  the  future.  Faith, 
which  is  the  fundamental  requisite  of  true  religion,  grows 
and  strengthens  gradually  where  it  receives  careful  culture; 
but  it  requires  the  utmost  vigilance,  and  the  most  unceasing 
attention,  to  nurture  this  essential  grace,  in  a  soil  so  repug- 
nant to  its  growth  as  the  human  heart.  You  have  already 
professed  Christianity,  and  surrendered  your  young  heart 
to  its  lawful  possessor.  This  is  one  of  the  blessed  results  of 
a  religious  education.  But  you  have  not  now  an  evangelical 
guide  to  pioneer  the  way  for  you,  through  the  opening 
labyrinth  of  human  life.  Much  of  your  success  in  avoiding 
the  evils  which  abound  in  this  region,  will  depend  upon  the 


LETTER  I.  15 

degree  of  faith,  which  actuates  your  reliance  upon  heavenly 
goodness.     Many  persons  talk  of  their  faith  with  compla- 
cency, when  its  utmost  extent  is  to  elicit  a  belief  in  the 
historical  account  of  the  Redeemer's  birth,  life,  sufferings, 
and  death.     But  as  for  the  faith  which  "  purifies  the  heart, 
works  by  love,  and  overcomes  the  world" — they  know  it 
not,  neither  do  they  feel  their  deficiency.  This  faith,  however, 
is  indispensable  to  true  Christianity.     You  must  not  only 
believe,  but  you  must  love  the  doctrines  of  our  holy  religion. 
or  its  ways  are  not  pleasant,  or  its  paths  peaceful.     Unless 
you  make  the  laws  of  Christ  }our  ruling  principles  of  action, 
you  will  rise  but  slowly  in  Christian  attainments.     Many 
professors  do  not  even  pretend  to  walk  humbly  with  God, 
or  to  keep  themselves  unspotted  from  the  world.     They 
keep   up  external   appearances,  and   attend-  sedulously  to 
forms  5  but  there  is  little  of  the  vital  spirit  of  Christianity  in 
these  observances.   The  heart  is  still  unchanged,  and  under 
the   direction  of  carnal  motives.     How  few  among  these 
nominal  Christians,  actually  believe  in  the  work  of  the  Holy 
Spirit !     And  yet  they  talk  volubly  of  their  faith,  as  if  to 
make  up  for  the  deficiency  within,  by  a  redundance  of  words. 
But  trui.  religion  is  an  internal  principle.    It  rules  the  heart, 
and  sends  out  from  that  seat  of  life  and  thought,  the  impulses 
which  direct  the  conduct.    Our  faith  is  sent  to  us  from 
heaven,  as  a  messenger  of  love,  to  prepare  us  for  ascending 
to  those  blissful  realms,  when  the  disembodied  spirit  is  free 
from  its  tabernacle  of  dust. 

God  himself  is  the  author  of  Christianity.  He  foretold  it 
from  the  time  when  the  penalty  of  their  transgression  fell 
upon  our  first  parents.  For  upwards  of  four  thousand  years, 
the  world  was  in  expectation  of  the  coming  Messiah,  who  at 
length  appeared  in  fulfilment  of  prophecy,  and  confirmed 
his  mission  by  miracles  and  signs,  which  continued  until  the 
establishment  of  his  doctrines  among  men.  These  doctrines 
are  pure  from  that  alloy  which  attends,  the  best  works  of 


16  LETTER  I. 

imperfect  human  wisdom :  th§y  are  perfectly  consistent,  and 
beautifully  sublime!  One  decisive  proof  of  their  divine 
origin  is,  that  when  once  the  mind  of  man  is  brought  to  study 
and  comprehend  them,  it  rests  fully  satisfied  with  their 
fitness  and  sufficiency.  The  precepts  of  this  religion  are 
holy  and  just,  and  its  laws  were  ratified  by  the  blood  of  its 
author.  The  worship  of  Christ  as  a  saviour,  is  a  spiritual 
worship.  His  service  is  rational,  and  rendered  practicable 
by  the  helps  that  it  affords  to  human  weakness.  This 
religion  was  not  introduced  by  power ;  for  it  was  the  object 
and  aim  of  power  to  overthrow  it.  The  world  did  not 
establish  it;  for  it  was  the  declared  enemy  of  the  world, — 
it  despised  its  maxims,  and  condemned  its  enjoyments  as 
vain  and  empty.  Christianity  is  not  merely  a  rule  of  life, 
though  it  presents  the  most  perfect  rule  that  the  world  ever 
knew.  Had  mankind  been  in  a  state  of  innocence,  such  a 
rule  would  have  sufficed ;  but  fallen  creatures  must  have 
something  besides  the  law  which  they  have  violated,  to 
subject  them  to  restraint.  The  gospel,  therefore,  does  not 
afford  a  law  for  the  innocent,  but  a  means  of  salvation  for 
the  guilty.  It  is  suited  to  the  exigencies  of  man  in  his  fallen 
state ;  not  to  the  requisitions  of  a  guiltless  and  upright  race 
of  creatures.  The  law  is  already  violated.  The  gospel 
brings  salvation  to  those  who  have  been  guilty  of  this  viola- 
tion. It  follows  of  cqurse,  that  no  mere  system  of  forms, 
adopted  from  human  motives,  can  reinstate  a  fallen  race  in 
their  primitive  innocence.  The  religion  which  suits  our 
necessities,  must  be  one  which  transforms  the  soul  into  the 
image  of  its  author,  and  makes  us  like  minded  with  our  great 
pattern.  In  short,  the  heart,  that  is,  the  thinking  and  feel- 
ing principle  within  us,  must  be  changed;  and  nothing  short 
of  omnipotent  power  can  effect  this  miracle.  It  must  be 
clearly  understood,  that  the  change  is  to  be  radical ;  the 
heart  is  not  improved,  or  added  to,  or  new  modified,  but 
changed;  old  things  must  pass  away,  and  all  things  become 


LETTER  I.  17 

new.  According  to  the  emphatic  language  of  Scripture, 
man  must  be  born  again.  Surely  this  term  would  not  be 
used  to  imply  an  ordinary  alteration  of  feeling  or  sentiment. 
Some  weak  believers  reject  the  expression,  because  they  say 
it  means  an  impossible  thing.  But  cannot  the  same  Spirit, 
which  moved  upon  the  face  of  the  waters  in  the  creation  of 
the  world,  move  within  the  human  heart,  so  as  to  bring  order 
out  of  chaos,  and  light  out  of  darkness  ?  And  how  can 
that  thing  be  pronounced  impossible,  which  happens  every 
day  among  the  children  of  men  ?  Man  becomes  a  new  crea- 
ture, by  a  total  change  in  his  will,  his  wishes,  his  hopes,  his 
actions.  His  will  is  brought  into  conformity  with  that  of  his 
Heavenly  Father.  His  wishes  tend  towards  holy  things. 
His  hopes  soar  to  heaven.  His  actions  are  dictated  by  a 
just  and  upright  law,  which  is  the  governing  impulse  of  his 
renewed  heart.  What  can  be  greater  than  the  difference 
between  this  man,  and  the  same  being  who  once  followed 
blindly  the  dictates  of  his  own  corrupt  inclinations,  desired 
only  carnal  things,  never  thought  of  heaven,  and  acted 
according  to  his  own  vile,  earthly  desires.  It  is  plain,  there- 
fore, that  the  expression,  "  a  new  creature,"  is  not  figurative 
or  hyperbolical,  but  literal, — man  is  born  again  of  the  Spirit, 
and  becomes  "  a  new  creature."  True  religion,  when  it  is 
attained,  soon  proves  itself  by  its  fruits.  God  is  not  recog- 
nised as  an  old  master,  but  received  by  an  entire  dedication 
to  his  service,  as  a  new  one.  The  homage  rendered  to  him 
is  not  external,  but  consists  in  an  inward  devotedness  to  his 
will.  Man  is  in  a  new  state — a  new  condition.  Instead  of 
following  the  world,  he  is  to  abjure  it ;  for  as  Christ  overcame 
the  world  himself,  he  expects  his  disciples  to  obtain  the  same 
victory,  and  he  has  promised  them  strength  sufficient  for  the 
undertaking.  It  would  not  have  been  worth  the  Redeemer's 
while  to  have  suffered  and  died  for  us,  if  he  was  only  to 
procure  us  the  meagre  advantages  resulting  from  a  few 
forms  and  ordinances.  But  he  came  to  teach  us  precepts, 
b   2 


18  LETTER  I. 

which  were  illustrated  by  his  own  example,  confirmed  to  us 
by  his  death,  and  fully  consummated  by  his  resurrection. 

It  is  a  melancholy  truth,  that  we  see  few  instances  of  vital 
religion  in  full  exercise,  among  men.  But  this  deficiency  is 
not  occasioned  by  any  imperfection  in  the  principle  itself: 
it  arises  from  the  imperfect  manner  in  which  it  is  applied. 
The  task  is  difficult,  and  is  therefore  negligently  performed. 
Those  who  strive  after  true  holiness  of  life,  are  represented 
as  enthusiasts,  whose  example  may  not,  and  should  not  be 
emulated. 

Another  stumbling  block  to  faith,  is  the  difficulty  of 
admitting  the  doctrine  of  total  depravity.  Yet  it  is  certain, 
that  Christianity  can  be  based  on  no  other  doctrine.  If  man 
is  not  corrupt  by  nature,  he  cannot  require  entire  regeneration. 
But,  my  dear  girl,  if  you  search  your  own  heart  faithfully, 
young  as  it  is,  you  will  find  the  germ  of  human  corruption 
at  its  core.  Man  is  not  an  imperfect,  but  a  fallen  creature  ; 
and  unless  he  admits  religion  as  a  rectifying  principle,  the 
disorders  incident  to  his  natural  state,  will  gradually  work 
out  his  destruction.  You  must  therefore  believe  implicitly 
that  you  are  a  sinner,  or  you  cannot  receive  Christ  as  your 
Saviour.  He  does  not  undertake  to  reform,  but  to  renew 
your  heart.  Many  people  think  they  will  do  very  well,  with 
a  little  amendment  here  and  there,  while  they  imagine  some 
parts  of  their  old  character  are  worth  retaining.  These 
cannot  surely  expect  to  have  the  Redeemer  as  an  aid  in 
these  works  of  supererogation.  There  is  no  promise  in 
Scripture,  from  which  they  can  derive  such  an  expectation. 
Thus  it  is,  that  so  many  persons  who  call  themselves  Chris- 
tians, are  disappointed  in  their  hopes  of  amendment.  They 
go  to  work  in  a  wrong  manner,  and  do  not  begin  at  the 
beginning.  Is  not  it  a  palpable  incongruity  to  suppose,  that 
he  who  came  to  save  that  which  was  lost,  should  set  about 
such  a  work  by  finishing  what  nature  has  begun  ?  You  will, 
perhaps,  meet  with  people  who  will  tell  you,  that  it  is  im- 


LETTER  II.  19 

peaching  the  mercy  of  God,  to  suppose  that  the  beings 
created  by  himself,  should  be  depraved.  I  have  heard  this 
argument  loudly  maintained  by  people,  who  have  declared, 
that  man  had  far  more  good  than  evil  in  his  nature.  But, 
alas  !  this  error  is  not  of  long  continuance.  Those  who  deny 
the  doctrine  of  total  depravity,  cast  away  the  brightest 
example  of  the  mercy  of  God.  They  do  not  behold  him  as 
we  do,  wonderfully  preparing  a  system  of  salvation  for 
guilty  rebels,  which  shall  redeem  them  from  everlasting 
punishment,  without  compromising  his  own  truth  and  justice. 
This  is  indeed  transcendent  mercy  !  The  continuance  of 
favour  to  those  who  have  not  erred,  is  justice — not  mercy. 
But  the  pardon  of  guilty  man,  and  the  gift  of  love  which 
accompanies  that  pardon,  is  indeed  angelic,  heavenly,  God- 
like mercy.  Angels  themselves  have  not  received  such  a 
boon.  They  do  not,  in  their  bright  mansions  above,  owe 
half  such  a  debt  of  gratitude  to  their  sovereign,  as  the  poor 
frail  beings  who  grope  in  darkness,  in  the  dust  of  the  earth ! 
I  will  here  conclude  this  long  epistle,  my  dear  Mary, 
hoping  that  neither  its  length  nor  its  subject  will  deter  you 
from  a  careful  perusal  of  its  contents. 

Believe  me  truly  yours. 


LETTER  II. 

Piety  Indispensable  to  Females. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

In  my  first  letter,  I  have  explained  to  you  the  extreme 
importance  of  religion  to  mankind  collectively;  I  will  now 
proceed  to  examine  this  divine  principle,  as  it  applies  to  the 
exigencies  of  the  female  sex.  Women  without  religion  are 
to  be  found  in  every  rank  and  station  of  society,  and  like 
most  other  familiar  objects,  they  pass  before  our  eyes  with- 


20  LETTER  II. 

out  notice  or  commentary.  It  is  only  when  human  nature 
is  scanned  closely  and  strictly,  that  we  become  aware  of 
the  secret  sources  of  human  strength  or  weakness.  It  is 
only  when  we  have  learned  to  penetrate  the  motives  of 
action,  that  we  can  truly  estimate  the  characters  which  are 
daily  enacting  their  several  parts  in  the  drama  of  life  before 
our  eyes.  When  religion,  the  mightiest  of  all  human  attain- 
ments, becomes  the  moving  principle  of  the  mind,  as  well  as 
the  ruling  impulse  of  the  heart,  a  change  comes  over  the 
nature  of  man  which  effaces  the  impress  of  sordid  mortality 
stamped  upon  the  fallen  creature,  and  replaces  that  fearful 
token  by  the  seal  of  spiritual  existence.  It  is  then,  that  the 
purified  heart  sends  forth  motives  somewhat  worthy  of 
immortal  beings.  Woman,  the  softest  and  the  iceakest 
portion  of  the  majestic  species  of  man,  becomes  more  easily 
and  more  thoroughly  imbued  with  this  spiritual  essence. 
Her  actions  show  forth  spontaneously  the  principle  she  has 
attained;  and  perhaps  the  purest,  if  not  the  most  substantial 
fruits  of  regeneration,  spring  from  the  ductile  nature  of  the 
weaker  sex. 

Religion  if  not  most  manifest  in  feminine  deportment,  is 
at  least  most  necessary  to  enable  women  to  perform  their 
allotted  duties  in  life.  The  very  nature  of  those  duties 
demands  the  strength  of  Christian  principle  to  ensure  their 
correct  and  dignified  performance;  while  the  nature  of 
female  trials,  requires  all  the  meliorating  power  of  faith,  to 
induce  a  requisite  measure  of  patience  and  fortitude./ Pride, 
it  is  true,  sometimes  instigates  a  show  of  patient  sufferance, 
while  the  heart  is  riven  with  its  own  secret  conflicts.  How 
often  do  we  witness  the  gradual  decay  of  females  who  are 
extolled  for  their  fortitude  in  affliction.  Their  minds, 
unsupported  by  religion,  struggle  painfully  to  maintain  out- 
ward equanimity,  while  the  inward  canker  is  destroying 
slowly  but  certainly,  the  very  germ  of  vitality.  But  when 
the  truly  feminine  character,  formed   in   gentleness,  and 


LETTER  II.  21 

nerved  by  Christian  faith  to  suffer  the  will  of  her  Father, 
bows  her  head  with  meekness  to  his  dispensations,  she  pre- 
sents a  picture,  the  moral  sublimity  of  which  is  unequalled. 
Woman  without  religion  is  a  solecism  in  morals,  a  defor- 
mity in  social  life.  She  resembles  the  dead  oak  to  which 
the  verdant  ivy  still  gives  the  appearance  of  freshness,  as  it 
twines  its  flexible  branches  around  the  withered  stem.  The 
unpractised  eye  mistakes  the  rich  foliage  of  the  vine,  for  the 
appropriate  tokens  of  vitality  in  the  tree  to  which  it  clings. 
There  is  life  indeed,  but  it  is  not  where  life  would  be  use- 
ful and  dignified ;  it  is  only  a  growth  of  frivolous  and  unpro- 
fitable decoration.  Woman  may  look  attractive  at  a  distance, 
as  if  all  her  characteristic  requisites  were  in  full  vigour;  but 
approach  her  nearly,  and  you  see  a  redundance  of  orna- 
mental qualities,  covering,  like  the  unsubstantial  ivy,  the 
sapless  trunk,  from  which  emanates  no  one  substantial  good ; 
for  the  principle  of  life  is  wanting.  Nay,  I  fear  this  simili- 
tude may  be  carried  still  further;  for  the  ornamental  quali- 
ties of  irreligious  females,  too  often  resemble  the  ivy  in  its 
poisonous  qualities.  Those  who  unwarily  come  in  contact 
with  either,  may  have  cause  to  rue  an  over  hasty  estimate  of 
external  advantages. 

It  is  no  derogation  from  the  dignity  or  utility  of  woman, 
to  declare  that  she  is  inferior  to  man  in  moral  as  well  as 
in  physical  strength.  She  has  a  different  part  to  act,  and 
therefore  she  requires  different  qualities  from  the  being  who 
has  been  pronounced  her  superior  by  the  Almighty  himself. 
Woman  was  created  avowedly  to  be  the  helpmeet,  not  the 
ruler,  nor  yet  the  equal  of  man.  Providence  has  allotted 
her  certain  requisites  for  this  station,  which  it  should  be  the 
object  of  education  to  strengthen  and  mature.  It  is  much  to 
be  regretted  that  custom  should  ever  have  been  permitted 
to  violate  this  wise  and  merciful  allotment  of  the  Most 
High,  even  experimentally.  A  condition,  just  subordinate  to 
that  of  man,  is  replete   with  usefulness  and  consistency; 


22  LETTER  II. 

whereas  in  attempting  to  elevate  the  weaker  sex  to  a  station 
which  demands  masculine  strength,  national  as  well  as  indi- 
vidual misery  have  been  produced.  Look  at  the  result  of  a 
similar  experiment  in  France  before  the  revolution.  It  was 
then  said  that  women  had  attained  their  true  and  legimate 
station  of  equality.  Great  expectations  were  entertained 
from  this  unnatural  and  unholy  exaltation  of  one  half  the 
human  species,  above  their  proper  level  in  society.  Women 
forsook  their  homes,  for  the  strange  and  unhallowed  pur- 
suits of  politics  and  intrigues  of  state.  They  fulminated 
strange  doctrines  in  the  forum,  while  those  sweet  and  sacred 
duties  so  peculiarly  feminine,  were  either  wholly  neglected, 
or  consigned  to  cold  hearts  and  strange  hands.  They 
exchanged  the  smiles  of  infancy  and  the  prattle  of  child- 
hood, the  purest  of  earthly  things,  for  the  fierce  turmoil  and 
withering  excitement  of  political  debate.  Whilst  they  emu- 
lated masculine  supremacy,  their  children  were  corrupted 
by  dissolute  menials,  their  domestic  hearths  forsaken,  and 
the  social  compact  gradually  dissolved  !  What  were  the 
consequences  of  this  daring  innovation  of  divinely  estab- 
lished order?  Such  as  blacken  the  page  of  history,  and 
startle  the  thoughtful  mind,  even  in  another  age  and  region. 
Woman,  whose  most  endearing  qualities  are  nurtured  in 
the  sacredness  of  domestic  privacy,  was  seduced  from  her 
home  of  peace,  and  sphere  of  unostentatious  duties,  and 
exhibited  to  the  contaminating  gaze  of  a  lawless  multitude, 
not  to  soothe  the  wild  fervour  of  unnatural  excitement,  but 
to  increase  the  madness  of  the  populace  by  her  infuriated 
declamation.  Instead  of  quenching  the  deadly  flame  of 
popular  frenzy,  she  was  made  to  hold  the  torch  to  the 
funeral  pile  of  national  prosperity.  May  the  world  never 
again  behold  such  an  example  of  perverted  talents,  and  mis- 
guided energy. 

I  know,  my  dear  girl,  that  I  am  in  danger  of  encountering 
a  host  of  female  prejudices,  when  I  venture  unequivocally 


LETTER  II.  23 

to  recommend  the  doctrine  of  conjugal  obedience  even  to 
those  who  have  been  told  by  the  Almighty  himself,  that 
their  husbands  shall  have  rule  over  them.  This  is  some- 
what strange  and  contradictory !  that  even  professors  of 
religion  should  shrink  from  a  gospel  injunction,  so  plainly 
expressed  as  to  admit  of  but  one  interpretation.  Human 
ingenuity  can  devise  no  evasion  of  such  an  imperative  man- 
date ;  but  Christian  submission  can  suggest  many  sweet  and 
sacred  paliatives  for  what  is  rather  an  apparent  than  a  real 
evil.  Power,  my  dear  iMary,  is  one  of  the  Molochs  of  this 
world,  and  those  who  covet  even  a  legitimate  portion  of  it, 
will  be  found  to  have  taken  a  canker  to  their  bosoms,  when 
they  sought  only  to  gather  a  blameless  rose.  The  little 
that  falls  to  woman's  lot  in  her  appropriate  sphere  of 
domestic  superintendence,  is  often  sufficient  to  overburden 
both  her  heart  and  mind.  It  should  never  be  forgotten  that 
the  first  of  her  species  fell  into  the  snares  of  the  destroyer  by 
coveting  that  which  almighty  wisdom  had  denied  her. 
Had  Eve  been  content  with  her  allotted  portion  of  the 
blessings  of  a  sinless  state,  she  might  have  saved  herself  and 
descendants  the  immitigable  woes  of  their  present  condition. 
But  as  the  first  woman  was  too  weak  to  resist  temptation,  I 
fear  the  disasters  introduced  by  her  dereliction  of  duly,  have 
rendered  the  sex  still  more  fragile.  They  have  undoubtedly 
drawn  upon  themselves  many  penalties,  like  their  original 
mother,  by  coveting  what  providence  never  intended  them 
to  possess. 

Is  it  not  time  then,  my  clear  Mary,  for  our  ill-fated  sex  to 
beware  of  those  frailties  which  have  already  produced  such 
manifold  evils  ?  Does  not  true  wisdom,  as  well  as  true  piety, 
dictate  a  circumstantial  obedience  to  the  will  of  God  as 
revealed  in  his  holy  book  ?  A  French  writer  has  beauti- 
fully complimented  the  sex,  by  designating  them  as  that 
part  of  the  creation  without  which,  the  morning  of  life 
would  be  destitute  of  succour,  the  noon  without  pleasure, 


24  LETTER  II. 

and  the  evening  without  consolation.  Surely  this  says 
enough  even  for  those  who  are  most  covetous  of  praise ! 

But  in  our  happy  country,  there  is  at  present  little  danger 
of  any  overt  violation  of  feminine  propriety.  The  sex  are, 
it  is  true,  somewhat  endangered  from  other  sources  of 
temptation,  however;  and  I  would  fain  put  them  on  their 
guard  against  all  imaginable  evils.  Fashion,  that  Juggernaut 
of  great  cities,  misleads  many  of  his  thoughtless  votaries 
from  the  sweet  path  of  duty  and  of  safety.  How  many 
victims  are  yearly  crushed  beneath  the  ponderous  wheels  of 
his  triumphal  car!  Alas,  the  various  signs  of  this  senseless 
idolatry  pervade  every  class  of  females  !  Age  is  not  exempt 
from  the  awful  taint  of  this  soul-wasting  folly.  Youth  often 
carries  the  tokens  of  its  disastrous  influence  to  a  premature 
grave.  How  I  must  ever  wonder  at  the  perversion  of  taste, 
not  to  say  of  principle,  which  leads  so  many  women  to  burst 
on  the  startled  eye,  in  all  the  elaborate  decorations  sanctioned 
by  fashion.  When  I  see  delicate  females  staggering  under 
an  immense  superstructure  of  gause  and  wire,  with  vast 
convolutions  of  many  coloured  ribbons,  wrapped  in  gaudy 
folds  around  a  huge  fabric,  equally  removed  from  beauty 
and  usefulness,  I  sigh  for  the  stigma  too  sure  to  be  attached 
to  the  unlucky  wearers.  When  I  see  evident  marks  of  the 
violence  done  to  nature  in  repressing  the  exuberance  of 
youthful  fulness,  and  watch  the  gradual  waning  of  the  hues 
of  health,  once  so  redundant ;  with  these  decisive  tokens  of 
the  victory  accorded  to  fashion,  before  my  eye,  and  the 
shrunken  form,  completely  subdued  to  the  prescribed 
standard  by  unnatural  restriction,  I  sigh  still  more  deeply. 

All  these  expedients  to  attract  notoriety  are  unworthy 
of  the  female  character.  Women  should  shrink  from  the 
public  gaze,  like  the  meek-eyed  violet,  and  shed  the  incense 
of  their  good  works  aiound,  so  as  to  mark  the  spot  where 
they  bloom,  in  lowly  retirement.  These'  are  far  more 
attractive  to  the  moj^l  sense,  as  well  as  to  refined  taste, 


LETTER  II.  25 

than  the  gay,  gaudy  frequenters  of  public  amusements.  As 
some  delicate  hues  fade  in  the  sun,  so  do  genuine  female 
attractions  lose  their  lustre,  when  exposed  to  the  glare  of 
publicity.  The  unchecked  gaze  of  the  world  tarnishes,  like 
the  meridian  beam  of  a  summer  sun :  she  who  has  stood 
before  it,  unabashed,  has  lost  the  freshness  and  delicacy  of 
feminine  loveliness.  It  is  far  better  that  woman  should  be 
sought  in  that  retirement  where  her  virtues  are  perfected, 
than  that  she  should  be  found  in  some  conspicuous  situation, 
where  the  roving  eye  is  attracted  by  the  blaze  of  her  out- 
ward adornments.  Meekness  is  not  only  an  appropriate 
feminine  attribute,  but  a  fundamental  virtue  of  the  female 
character.  Is  it  not  strange,  my  dear  Mary,  that  young 
women  who  profess  to  receive  the  Scripture  as  the  best 
moral  code,  and  to  reverence  it  as  the  revealed  will  of  God, 
should  yet  violate  its  emphatic  injunctions.  How  little 
heed  is  given  to  the  apostle's  beautiful  directions  for  female 
apparel,  by  the  very  followers  of  gospel  wisdom  and  truth  ? 
Read  them  often  yourself,  my  dear  girl,  that  there  may  be 
at  least  one  woman  adorned  according  to  the  genuine  taste 
and  propriety  of  scripture  fashion. 

I  have  been  led  to  make  these  remarks,  by  a  specimen 
lately  exhibited  to  me  of  an  ultra  fashionable  female,  whom 
I  will  attempt  to  describe  for  your  amusement. 

Felicia  was  born  of  wealthy  parents,  who  gave  her  a 
showy  and  expensive  education.  From  her  infancy  she  was 
instructed  in  those  accomplishments  which  serve  best  for 
exhibition.  Her  mind  was  cultivated  only  in  its  most 
brilliant  qualities  ;  every  j)lebeian  attainment  was  carefully 
avoided,  while  fashion  was  sedulously  inculcated  as  the  first 
requisite  to  female  elegance — to  move  gracefully  in  a  crowd 
— to  dance  with  pre-eminent  effect  before  hundreds — to 
converse  with  unabashed  ease  on  every  subject,  and  in 
every  possible  situation — to  assume  the  first  place  in  all 
company,  and  act  as  if  not  doubting  that  every  one  awarded 
C 


26  LETTER  III. 

the  distinction  to  her — to  exhibit  her  whole  circle  of  accom- 
plishments with  ceaseless  diligence,  and  to  think  all  time 
lost  that  was  not  spent  in  actual  display,  or  in  preparing 
for  exhibition. 

Such  was  the  education  bestowed  on  Felicia,  and  you 
will  not  think  that  I  was  surprised  at  its  results.  I  found 
her  a  thing  of  art,  as  far  as  artificial  and  affected  manners 
could  merit  such  a  term.  She  would  have  been  handsome, 
had  not  her  demeanour  claimed  even  more  admiration  than 
she  could  elicit.  She  might  have  conversed  agreeably,  but 
her  talents  were  too  showy  to  be  pleasing,  and  her  informa- 
tion so  decidedly  selected  for  effect,  that  it  failed  to  produce 
any.  In  short,  she  showed  the  capacity  of  being  attractive, 
without  exciting  any  feeling  but  that  of  compassion  from  an 
audience  whom  she  expected  confidently  to  dazzle. 

Adieu,  for  the  present,  my  dear  M. 


LETTER  III. 

Female  Fiety  exemplified  in  the  characters  of  a  Mother 
and  Daughter. 

My.  Dear  Mary, 

Since  I  wrote  last,  both  my  feelings  and  taste  have  been 
accidentally  gratified,  by  a  call  at  the  house  of  a  lady,  whom 
I  shall  call  Emilia.  She  is  a  widow,  who  has  devoted  her- 
self to  the  education  of  an  only  daughter.  When  1  arrived 
at  the  house,  the  friend  who  had  insisted  on  procuring  me 
the  pleasure  of  an  introduction,  politely  requested  permission 
to  make  me  known  to  Emilia.  She  received  me  with  dig- 
nified ease,  and  soon  gave  me  that  pleasant  sensation,  which 
arises  from  social  intercourse  among  the  true  followers  of 


.      LETTER  III.  27 

the  Redeemer:  I  fell  into  that  sweet  home  feeling,  which 
opens  all  the  sluices  of  human  affection. 

Emilia  spoke  of  her  daughter,  as  the  friend  and  companion 
from  whose  society  she  derived  the  greatest  portion  of  her 
happiness.     While  she  was  speaking  with  kindling  features, 
the  subject  of  her  discourse  entered  the  room,  having  just 
returned    from  visiting  a  sick  neighbour.      "  This    is  my 
daughter   Emma,"  said  Emilia,  with  an  illuminated  smile. 
— My  eyes  fell  upon  a  youthful  form,  of  graceful  size  and 
proportions,  plainly  apparelled,  an  d  without  the  slightest 
approach   to  artifice  in  her    demeanour.     Her  features  at 
first  appeared  plain,  but  a  smile  diffused  over  them  an  irre- 
sistible attraction.     She  was  grave,  however,  and  her  coun- 
tenance exhibited  traces  of  recent  emotion.     She  entered 
into  easy  conversation,  carefully  falling  into  the  subject  se- 
lected by  her  mother,  without  showing  any  desire  to  dictate 
one  of  her  own.    In  the  course  of  a  long  morning's  discourse, 
she  developed  rich  stores  of  intellectual  wealth,  but  showed 
no  consciousness  of  the  impression  she  was  making  on  her 
auditors.     I  exerted  all  my  skill  to  draw  her  out,  without 
betraying  my  design,  and  succeeded  in  fathoming  a  mind  of 
no  ordinary  depth.     The  stream  of  literature  had  passed 
over  this  mind,  fertilizing  the  soil,  without  leaving  any  pool 
for  learning  to  stagnate  in.     There  was  moral  beauty  and 
grace  in  her  conceptions,  while  her  thoughts  flowed  with  a 
freedom  that  betokened  no  small  share  of  variety  in  her 
mental  treasures.     Her  moral  sense  appeared  pure  from  the 
slightest  taint  of  worldly  conformity.     She  had  evidently 
taken,  at  the  age  of  seventeen,  that  good  part  which  was  not 
to  be  taken  from  her ;  and  her  thoughts  were  exalted  far 
beyond  the  impurities  of  earth.     She  seemed  to  pant  after 
opportunities  to  serve  God,  and  yet  to  wait  patiently  his 
own  time,  to  call  her  forth  in  his  service.     The  truths  of 
Christianity  had  been  cemented  with  the  fabric  of  her  being, 
so  that  out  of  Christ,  she  was  nothing.     All  her  energies 


28  LETTER  III. 

were  directed  to  his  cause ;  but  they  had  evidently*  been 
hitherto  employed  in  meliorating  the  condition  of  her  own 
heart.  When  she  spoke  of  human  depravity,  you  clearly 
saw,  that  her  own  bosom  had  furnished  sufficient  evidences 
of  this  fundamental  doctrine  of  Scripture.  Some  people  talk 
awkwardly  of  sin,  as  if  they  would  fain  apply  their  ideas  to 
the  world,  and  not  to  themselves.  But  Emma  drew  her  pic- 
ture of  innate  depravity  from  self  conviction,  and  all  her 
arguments  were  practically  deduced  from  self  examination. 
While  she  proved  that  man  was  by  nature  sinful,  she  proved 
that  grace  could  renew  a  right  spirit  within  him.  There 
was  a  sweet  persuasiveness  in  her  language,  that  seemed 
calculated  to  win  souls  to  the  Saviour.  Her  mother  evidently 
delighted  in  hearing  her  speak,  and  seemed  to  draw  her  out 
more  for  her  own  gratification,  than  for  the  purposes  of  dis- 
play. Emma  never  spoke,  until  she  found  that  Emilia  had 
chosen  silence  as  her  part. 

When  the  dinner  hour  approached,  both  mother  and 
daughter  quitted  the  room,  "on  hospitable  thoughts  intent," 
like  our  first  mother.  My  companion  took  this  opportunity 
to  point  cut  to  me,  several  lady-like  works  which  adorned  the 
apartment.  There  were  some  beautiful  landscapes  finished 
with  taste  and  skill,  and  evidently  taken  from  nature. 
An  oil  painting  of  the  parting  of  Hector  and  Andromache, 
displayed  uncommon  excellence  in  the  art,  but  my  friend 
informed  me  that  Emma  had  applied  herself  to  this  branch 
of  painting  a  few  years  ago,  when  her  mother's  pecuniary 
circumstances  were  embarrassed.  "  She  then  taught  paint- 
ing, by  way  of  increasing  her  mother's  income,"  said  she, 
"  and  when  their  difficulties  were  removed,  she  gave  up  this 
arduous  undertaking;  at  present  she  rarely  has  recourse  to 
her  pencil,  except  to  add  to  the  funds  of  the  Theological 
Education  Society."  There  were  musical  instruments  also 
in  the  apartment,  and  my  companion  assured  me  that  Emma 
touched  them  with  skill  and  taste.  "  This  accomplishment," 


LETTER  III.  29 

added  she,  u  she  learnt  in  compliance  with  her  father's  de- 
sire; he  languished  many  years  in  great  bodily  suffering, 
and  music  was  one  of  his  principal  gratifications." 

As  the  dinner  hour  drew  near,  our  party  received  an 
agreeable  accession  from  the  entrance  of  the  minister  of  the 
parish.  He  soon  told  us  that  he  had  been  detained  at  the 
house  of  the  same  old  neighbour,  to  whom  Emma  had  paid 
her  morning  visit.  "  She  has  taken  her  departure  for  a 
better  world,''  said  he,  "  and  O,  what  a  blessed  frame  has 
she  departed  in  !  She  blessed  you,  Miss  Emma,  with  her 
parting  breath,  and  declared  that  she  owed  her  conversion 
from  a  state  of  heathen  darkness,  to  your  unwearied  labours. 
1  Oh!7  exclaimed  she,  'had  she  left  me  in  my  obstinate 
blindness,  where  now  would  have  been  my  hopes?  But  she 
came  again  and  again,  in  faithful  imitation  of  him,  who  went 
about  doing  good  !  She  read  the  Scriptures  and  pointed  out 
their  meaning,  with  benign  goodness  and  perseverance,  until 
a  blessing  came  from  heaven  upon  her  labours.  Yes  !  I 
verily  believe  that  my  soul  was  granted  to  her  prayers.'  " 
The  tears  stood  in  Emma's  eyes,  as  she  listened  to  this  reci- 
tal.— "  I  did  but  little  for  her,"  said  she  in  a  quivering  voice. 
"  I  only  read  to  her,  and  explained  my  own  views  of  Chris- 
tianity. This  appeared  to  me  to  be  one  of  my  most  simple 
duties:  had  I  omitted  it,  my  conscience  would  not  have 
suffered  me  to  rest.  Besides,  I  find  myself  so  much  edified 
by  attempting  to  instruct  others,  that  this  was  not  altogether 
a  disinterested  duty." 

"  To  you,  Miss  Emma,"  said  the  good  minister,  "it  is 
more  than  a  duty, — it  is  a  privilege.  I  would  not  speak 
thus  to  your  face,  did  I  not  know  that  you  cannot  be  hurt 
by  a  little  honest  praise.  It  is  only  those  who  prize  enco- 
miums, that  are  hurt  by  them.  You  have  higher  motives  of 
action,  and  cannot  be  injured  by  an  assurance  that  you  have 
done  good  in  your  vocation." 
c  2 


30  LETTER  III. 

The  eyes  of  Emilia  glistened  at  this  sincere  and  merited 
eulogium  on  her  daughter.   I  could  see  that  she  prized  it  far 
more   than   she   could   have   done  personal   praise.     The 
evening  past  in  social  enjoyment,  and  I  learnt  yet  more  of 
the  excellencies  of  both  mother  and  daughter.  It  is  Emilia's 
rule  always  to  adhere  to  strict  moral  and  religious  propriety 
in  her  conversation.     She  keeps  the  spirit  of  religion  always 
in  operation,  so  as  to  pervade  whatever  subject  she  or  her 
guests  may  wish  to  discuss.     If  the  name  is  not  mentioned, 
the  essence  of  Christianity  is  present  in  all  her  avocations 
and  amusements;  it  sheds  a  halo  light  around  the  social 
circle.  When  night  arrived,  and  the  supper  things  were  remo- 
ved, the  room  was  prepared  for  family  worship  ;  the  servants 
entered,  all  comfortably  and  decently  clad,  with  an  air  of 
respectful   attention,    that    was  infinitely  pleasing.     I  was 
afterwards  told  that  they  were  all  instructed  in  the  principles 
of  Christianity,  and  most  of  them  professors  of  some  standing. 
Emma  teaches  them  all  to  read,  and  explains  their  christian 
duties  to  them  ;  so  that  in  obeying  their  heavenly  Master, 
they  perform  all  subordinate  duties.  "  When  we  teach  our 
servants  to  serve  God,"  says  Emilia,  "  they  serve   us  of 
course,  for  obedience  to  their  earthly  master  is  one  branch 
of  their  duty  to  their  heavenly  King."    It  is  always  better 
to  give  both  children  and  servants  a  higher  motive  of  action 
than  mere  subservience  to  our  will.     When  this  duty  is 
involved  in  a  more  exalted  one,  there  is  a  greater  prospect 
of  its  being  duly  performed.     I  have  never  seen  slaves  look 
as  they  do  in  Emilia's  family ;  and  I  am  told,  that  she  has 
the  most  moral  and  correct  set  in  the  country.    This  surely 
proves  the  propriety  of  her  management,  for  I  have  often 
seen,  in  the  houses  of  professors,   miserable  examples   of 
ignorance  and  vice  among  their  slaves,  while  incessant  com- 
plaints of  their  ill  conduct  made  up  the  sum  of  social  dis- 
course.    It  is,  doubtless,  an  arduous  part  of  christian  duty, 


LETTER  III.  31 

to  train  this  unfortunate  class  of  our  fellow  beings  in  the  way 
they  should  go;  but  it  certainly  must  be  a  part  of  christian 
duty ,  and  yet  how  seldom  is  it  ever  undertaken  in  any  way  ! 
We  hear  complaints  of  our  national  misfortune,  but  see  no 
efforts  made  to  meliorate  our  condition.  Surely  religion 
demands  and  suggests  some  exertions  in  this  obvious  and 
imperious  department  of  social  duty.  Emilia  has  among 
her  dependants  some  characters  who  would  not  disgrace  the 
higher  walks  of  life.  When  she  is  questioned  on  the  subject, 
she  says,  that  she  became  aware  early  in  life,  that  the  ordi- 
nary behaviour  of  these  people  would  destroy  her  happiness. 
She  therefore  set  herself  to  arranging  a  method  of  manage- 
ment, which  would  have  a  tendency  to  remove  these  evils. 
"  This  method,"  said  she,  u  I  digested  prayerfully,  and  if  I 
have  succeeded  in  enforcing  it,  the  Lord  has  been  pleased 
to  bless  my  supplications,  for  I  always  knew  the  work  was 
too  great  for  my  feeble  powers  to  accomplish,  and  I  have 
left  it  to  Him  who  does  all  difficult  things  for  his  creatures. 
I  never  omit  to  pray  that  God  may  give  me  good  servants." 
This  method  of  obtaining  so  essential  a  blessing,  struck 
me  as  being  dictated  by  an  unusual  degree  of  faith;  and, 
indeed,  every  thing  I  saw  at  Emilia's  house,  convinced 
me  of  the  efficacy  of  this  divine  principle,  when  in  full 
operation.  Both  mother  and  daughter  impute  every  blessing 
to  omnipotent  goodness*  They  have  encountered  many 
troubles,  the  recollection  of  which  seems  to  add  to  their 
present  thankful  enjoyment  of  prosperity.  Early  in  the 
morning  I  rose  and  looked  from  my  window,  when,  to  my 
surprise,  I  saw  Emma,  enveloped  in  a  cloak,  coming  into 
the  house  through  a  side  door.  A  servant  entering  soon 
after,  I  mentioned  what  I  had  seen,  and  inquired  the 
meaning  of  it.  "  Miss  Emma  sat  up  last  night,"  answered 
he,  "  with  the  dead  body  of  the  poor  woman  who  died 
yesterday.  The  family  were  all  broke  down  with  fatigue 
in  attending  on  her  last  illness,  and  her  daughter,  who  is 


22  LETTER  III. 

very  delicate,  was  going  to  set  up  herself,  but  Miss  Emma 
would  not  suffer  her,  so  she  went  over  last  night  after 
prayers,  and  returned  by  day  this  morning  to  get  some  rest 
before  morning  worship."  Accordingly  the  benevolent 
Emma  appeared  soon  after  I  entered  the  drawing  room. 
She  looked  pale,  but  made  no  complaints  ;  on  the  contrary, 
her  manner  was  unusually  cheerful ;  doubtless  from  the 
prevalence  of  that  spirit  within  her,  which  prompts  deeds 
of  self-denial.  I  could  not  but  amuse  my  secret  thoughts 
with  drawing  up  a  contrast  between  Emma  and  Felicia, 
which  was  strongest  precisely  at  that  point  of  time ;  for  I 
remembered  calling  at  noon,  after  a  ball,  upon  Felicia,  and 
being  told  by  her  mother,  that  she  had  not  yet  left  her  bed. 
*  She  is  such  a  dancer,"  said  the  mother  with  a  complacent 
smile,  "  that  she  gets  fatigued  to  death  at  balls.  Every 
body  of  any  note  must  dance  with  her,  and  she  comes 
home  half  dead  from  every  dancing  party.  Its  at  least  a 
week  before  she  can  walk  straight,  and  I  promise  you  she 
is  cross  enough  at  such  seasons."  This  account  was  given 
without  a  suspicion  that  it  could  make  an  unfavourable 
impression  upon  me. 

Let  me  entreat  you,  my  dear  Mary,  to  compare  these 
two  characters  carefully,  and  tell  me  which  of  the  two  you 
wish  to  resemble  ?  I  know  that  both  your  principles  and 
taste  will  lead  you  to  make  a  right  choice.  But  I  am  far 
from  wishing  to  confine  you  to  an  earthly  model,  when  you 
have  the  fulness  of  perfection  set  before  you,  in  Him  who 
has  commanded  you  to  be  perfect,  even  as  he  is  perfect. 
Yet  1  do  not  at  all  approve  the  sentiment  which  is  often 
exculpated  by  those  who  choose  to  entertain  it,  namely, 
that  it  is  wrong  to  look  at  any  character  with  the  desire  of 
imitation.  If  you  see  before  you  an  example  of  practical 
excellence,  it  may  save  you  the  labour  of  embodying  in 
your  own  mind  the  virtues  to  be  copied.  When  you  see, 
cot  only  what  good  things  may  be  done,  but  also  how  they 


LETTER  IV.  33 

are  done,  you  may  set  about  them  with  greater  confidence 
of  success.  The  next  letter  I  address  you,  shall  comprehend 
charity  as  a  practical  virtue.  May  the  grace  of  God  incline 
you  fully  to  understand  and  practise  it. 

Ever  yours. 


LETTER  IV. 

Definition  of  Charity. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

It  has  been  said  of  women,  that  the  natural  tenderness 
of  their  hearts  disposes  them  to  practise  without  difficulty, 
the  duties  of  charity.  1  grant  that  some  of  the  requisites 
of  this  essential  christian  grace,  may  be  prompted  by 
feminine  softness,  but  there  are  others  which  require  firm- 
ness and  magnanimity,  such  as  rarely  fall  to  the  lot  of 
women.  Take  the  apostle's  definition  along  with  you,  and 
you  will  soon  comprehend  my  meaning.  "  Charity  suffereth 
long,  and  is  kind — charity  en-vieth  not — charity  vaunteth 
not  herself — is  not  puffed  up — doth  not  behave  itself 
unseemly — seeketh  not  her  own — is  not  easily  provoked — 
thinketh  no  evil — rejoiceth  not  in  iniquity,  but  rejoiceth  in 
the  truth — beareth  all  things — believeth  all  things — hopeth 
all  things — endureth  all  things."  This  is,  indeed,  a  com- 
prehensive grace,  and  one  who  can  fully  practise  all  its 
requisitions,  must  be  nearer  the  image  of  Christ  than  a 
superficial  observer  would  suppose. 

In  the  first  place,  charity  suffereth  long.  Can  you,  my 
dear  girl,  ever  hope  to  arrive  at  constancy  in  suffering? 
Can  you  endure  the  persecution  which  I  know  you  undergo 
from  some  who  call  themselves  your  friends  ?  Do  you  never 


34  LETTER  IV. 

forget  the  gentleness  and  equanimity  that  such  a  case  calls 
for  ?  Do  you  not  only  endure  outwardly,  but  is  your  inward 
aspiration,  "Father,  forgive  them,  for  they  know  not  what 
they  do  ?"  Do  you  cheerfully  perform  offices  of  kindness 
to  your  persecutors  ?  Do  you  never  feel  uneasy  when  you 
view  the  superior  attainments  of  others,  so  as  to  be  restless 
and  discontented  under  their  superiority  ?  Do  you,  on  the 
contrary,  look  up  to  them  with  cordial  approbation  and 
admiration,  loving  the  virtues  which  they  practise,  and 
being  content  to  feel  your  own  inferiority? — then  you  have 
the  charity  which  envieth  not.  Are  you  content  that  your 
good  works  should  be  seen  by  God  alone  ?  Are  you  never 
anxious  to  bring  to  light  any  favourite  action,  which  might 
redound  to  your  praise  ?  Do  you  labour  for  the  glory  of 
God  alone;  and  is  your  heart  so  full  of  this  object,  that 
your  own  profit,  honour,  or  praise,  never  conflicts  with 
holier  feelings  ? — then  your  charity  vaunteth  not  itself. 
Do  you  feel  humbled  by  a  consciousness  that  you  serve 
your  Master  negligently,  and  in  small  measure,  even  when 
most  engaged  in  his  cause  ?  Are  you  deeply  abased  when 
you  discover  in  your  heart  a  feeling  of  self-complacency 
under  your  good  works? — then  your  charity  is  not  puffed 
up.  If  we  feel  rightly,  our  utmost  exertions  must  fall 
immeasurably  short  of  our  desires,  so  that  we  never  can 
think  we  have  done  enough,  where  so  much  remains 
undone.  Charity  is  always  meek,  and  does  not  fall  into 
unseemly  fits  of  passion  or  impatience.  Charity  does  not 
admit  of  a  boisterous  assumption  of  rights,  but  rather  yields 
what  is  really  her  due,  than  assumes  all  that  can  justly  be 
claimed.  Charity  is  patient.  No  excess  of  persecution  or 
extremity  of  malice  can  provoke  wrath  in  the  mind  of  a 
truly  patient  person.  Charity  thinketh  no  evil.  Behold 
the  climax  of  this  christian  grace.  It  banishes  suspicion. 
It  induces  kindly  feelings,  and  favourable  judgments. 
Instead  of  impeaching  the  conduct  of  others,  it  supposes 


LETTER  IV.  35 

that  all  things  are  right  while  they  appear  so.     If  equivocal 
circumstances   lead   the   mind   to    suspicion,   still   charity 
thinketh   no   evil !    It  rejoices  when  truth  prevails,   and 
delights  to  see  mankind   under  its  influence.     Instead  of 
being  pleased  with  the   backslidings   of  fellow  professors-, 
charity  mourns  at  every  token  of  delinquency  ;  grieves  over 
each  instance  of  spiritual  declension,  and  rejoices  when 
righteousness  and  truth  actuate  the  conduct  of  the  people  of 
God.   This  virtue,  when  thus  practised,  comprehends  much 
of  the  sublime  and  beautiful  of  christian  excellence.     Emilia 
lately  disclosed  an  instance  of  her  daughter's  steadfastness 
in  the  faith,   which    was    truly   pleasing.      There   was   a 
young  person,  who  had   manifested  considerable  jealousy 
of  Emma's  success  in  life.     She  was  a  near  relation,  and 
a  fellow  labourer  in  the  good  cause,  though  with  motives 
far  less  pure  than  those  which  actuated  the  zealous  christian. 
This   person  disturbed   the  meek  and  benign  Emma,  in 
every   plan   which   her    charity  could   suggest.     By  open 
rudeness,  or  secret  thwartings,  she  impeded  many  of  her 
operations.     Emma   pursued   her   course  steadily ;  where 
she  was  stopped  in  one  path  of  duty,  she  turned  without 
murmuring  to  another.    In  vain  did  injudicious  friends  point 
out  to  her   with  amplification,  the  errors  of  her  relative. 
With  a  charity  determined  not  to  think  evil,  or  rejoice  in 
iniquity,  she  went  on  her  course  with  caution  and  prudence, 
avoiding  all  collision  as  much  as  possible,  and  yielding  the 
palm  to  her  envious  friend  whenever  she  could.     There 
was   to    be  a  meeting   of   a   sewing  society,  and  Emma 
he'^d  that  her  opponent  was  determined  to  do  something 
mortifying  to   her  on   the  occasion.     She   did   not  throw 
herself  into  an  attitude  of  defiance,  but  prayed  fervently  that 
she  might  be  guided  aright  in  her  conduct  at  this  crisis. 
She  meekly  bent  to  the  storm,  and  gave  up  all  that  was 
required;    cheerfully   taking    a  subordinate   situation,  and 
making  herself  happy  and  active.     This  conduct  disarmed 


36  LETTER  IV. 

malice.  She  enjoyed  the  triumph  of  overcoming  evil  with 
good ;  and  finally  brought  her  half-hearted  relative  to 
embrace  religion  firmly  and  consistenly.  Many  have  been 
the  triumphs  of  her  upright  spirit  over  malice  and  envy. 
At  present  she  enjoys  the  happiness  of  being  at  peace  with 
all  her  fellow-labourers,  and  having  their  confidence  in  a 
high  degree.  Emma  was  once  advised  not  to  admit  a 
captious,  cavilling  person,  into  some  benevolent  association 
in  which  she  was  engaged.  Her  answer  was,  "  I  believe 
she  is  sincere,  and  why  should  we  deny  her  the  opportunity 
of  amendment.  If  she  comes  among  us,  we  will  pray  for 
her,  and  endeavour  to  lead  her  aright;  we  ought  not  to 
refuse  even  the  little  that  she  can  do,  where  so  much  is 
requisite  to  ensure  success.  Let  us  determine  to  bear  with 
her ;  if  we  cannot  teach  her  any  good  thing,  she  can  teach 
us  patience,  which  is  a  lovely  christian  grace."  In  fact,  the 
lady  in  question  was  entirely  reformed,  and  became  a  useful 
member  of  the  association. 

It  is  melancholy  to  reflect,  that  good  works  cannot  be 
carried  on  in  the  social  circle,  without  being  impeded  by  the 
leaven  of  human  corruption.  How  often  do  we  see  much 
energy  wasted  in  fruitless  efforts,  because  the  spirit  of  discord 
prevails,  either  openly,  or  in  secret.  The  superficial  observer 
wonders  that  a  blessing  does  not  attend  such  active  exertions  ; 
but  the  omniscient  eye  sees  the  impediment  at  the  very  core 
of  those  hearts,  which  seek  in  vain  to  cover  up  their  carnal 
motives,  instead  of  labouring  to  cast  them  out.  God  will 
not  prosper  endeavours  that  are  polluted  by  emulation  or 
envy.  The  true  christian  never  thinks  he  can  do  enouf  u  in 
his  Master's  cause.  His  eye  is  always  fixed  on  the  aggregate 
sum  of  good  works.  If  much  has  been  done,  he  rejoices, 
even  when  he  knows  that  but  a  trifling  portion  of  the  good 
was  wrought  by  himself.  It  is  enough  for  him,  that  the 
cause  is  prospering.  His  heart  rejoices  in  the  piety  and 
zeal  of  others,  and  he  is  willing  to  follow  at  an  humble  dis- 


LETTER  IV.  37 

tance,  if  his  gifts  are  small,  or  his  opportunities  rare.  But 
many  persons  undertake  good  works  with  another  spirit. 
They  long  to  make  themselves  conspicuous,  and  to  have 
great  praise  for  their  good  deeds.  Verily,  they  have  their 
reward  in  the  breath  of  man's  nostrils.  They  press  forward, 
and  gather  fame  as  they  go,  disputing  at  every  step  with 
their  fellow  labourers.  If  they  meet  with  any  one  whose 
attainments  are  undoubtedly  superior  to  theirs,  they  shrink 
back,  and  will  not  unite  with  those  who  can  eclipse  them. 
This  is  done  too,  with  an  air  of  mock-humility,  as  if  they 
really  thought  their  own  gifts  contemptible.  But  the  Lord 
knoweth  their  hearts.  He  reads  inordinate  self-estimation 
at  the  bottom  of  them,  and  turns  away  with  disgust  from 
their  empty  professions.  Why  did  the  man  who  had  but 
one  talent,  refuse  to  put  it  to  interest?  Undoubtedly  because 
he  envied  him  who  had  ten,  and  thought  his  own  chance  of 
profit  too  small  to  be  regarded. 

One  would  think,  that  even  carnal  wisdom  would  suggest 
to  him  who  has  but  slender  gifts,  that  his  responsibility  is 
less,  and  his  chance  of  escaping  envy  and  malice,  greater, 
than  if  he  was  more  conspicuously  endowed.  Those,  whose 
high  intellectual  endowments  force  them  into  responsible 
stations,  are  fully  sensible  of  the  disadvantages  accruing 
to  them.  They  would  willingly  hide  their  heads  from 
the  storm  that  envy  and  malice  raise  with  their  tainted 
breath,  against  the  highly  gifted  of  all  denominations. 
Notoriety  has  its  accompanying  evils,  whatever  the  ambitious 
may  think,  when  they  envy  those  who  have  made  greater 
attainments  than  themselves.  God's  people  must  endure 
this  evil  if  called  forth  in  his  service  before  the  public  eye, 
but  they  certainly  do  not  esteem  it  among  their  privileges. 
While  the  ambitious  aspirant  is  aiming  at  notoriety,  the 
humble  christian  "  does  good  by  stealth,  and  blushes  to  find 
it  fame."  I  have  known  charitable  associations  so  disturbed 
by  a  spirit  of  rivalry,  as  to  be  rendered  almost  nugatory. 
D 


38  LETTER  IV. 

I  trust,  my  dear  girl,  that  you  will  never  suffer  carnal  motives 
to  mingle  with  your  active  exercises  in  the  cause  of  religion. 
I  once  knew  a  flourishing  Sabbath  School  nearly  broken  up, 
by  the  rivalry  of  its  two  heads;  both  were  struggling  for 
supremacy,  and  neither  would  yield  an  iota  to  the  other,  for 
the  sake  of  the  cause  they  professed  to  uphold.  Another 
school  was  seriously  injured  by  the  jealousy  of  the  female 
superintendent,  who  conceived  that  one  of  the  teachers  was 
more  popular  than  herself,  and  never  was  at  rest,  until  she 
succeeded  in  turning  her  out. 

I  could  name  other  similar  cases,  but  these  few  will  suffice 
for  warnings,  and  the  subject  is  too  painful  to  dwell  upon. 
Those  who  have  the  glory  of  God  at  heart,  will  bear  and 
torbear  for  his  sake;  knowing  that  he  appreciates  the  in- 
ward motives  of  the  heart,  and  not  the  outward  seeming  of 
such  as  call  themselves  by  his  name.  Many  of  our  keenest 
trials,  arise  from  the  conflicting  tastes  and  inclinations  of  our 
associates.  Were  it  not  for  such  lessons  as  these,  we  should 
have  no  opportunity  of  acquiring  patience  and  forberance, 
two  cf  the  most  precious  Christian  virtues.  If  you  have 
only  to  yield  to  those,  who  in  their  turn  yield  to  you,  your 
task  is  easy  ;  but  if,  when  you  have  practised  self  denial  to 
the  utmost  length  of  your  patience,  you  still  find  yourself 
pressed  upon,  there  is  real  merit  in  forbearing.  All  our 
virtues  are  strengthened  by  exercise,  and  we  are  so  little 
practised  in  self-imposed  restraints,  that  it  is  well  for  us  when 
our  Heavenly  Father  sends  occasions  of  discipline  to  us. 
We  are  always  children  in  his  sight,  and  require  the  same 
restrictions  that  we  are  wont  to  impose  upon  our  own  off- 
spring. We  are  apt  to  have  by  nature,  an  overweening 
sense  of  our  own  importance,  which  is  too  often  strengthened 
and  magnified  by  the  conversation  we  hear  in  the  social 
circle,  from  the  earliest  period  of  childhood.  There  is  gene- 
rally some  little  bickering  among  our  connexions — some 
small  occasion  of  heart  burning,— which  we  hear  discussed 


LETTER  IV.  39 

at  large,  with  animadversions  on  the  conduct  of  others,  pretty 
highly  seasoned  with  inflammable  ingredients.  From  these 
occurrences  we  learn  a  good  deal  of  the  dignity  of  human 
nature,  and  the  requisite  degree  of  retaliation  admissible  in 
civil  society.  Pride  is  thus  insensibly  nurtured  in  the  young 
heart,  to  a  degree  that  afterwards  proves  troublesome.  We 
retain  a  confused  notion,  that  resistance  to  aggression  is 
allowable,  if  not  praiseworthy.  "Nobody  ought  to  bear 
so  much — I  declare,  it  is  mean  spirited — it  is  cowardly  ; — 
every  one  ought  to  cultivate  proper  pride."  This  jargon 
confounds  the  minds  of  children,  and  they  grow  up  with 
undefined  ideas,  that  pride  is  sometimes  proper.  Not  being 
furnished  with  an  exact  estimate  of  the  legitimate  quantity, 
necessary  to  maintain  the  dignity  of  one's  character,  of  course, 
this  allotment  is  left  to  the  individual,  who  measures  the 
degree  of  proper  pride  by  his  own  ideas  of  propriety :  just 
as  much  as  he  feels  inclined  to  indulge,  is,  in  his  opinion,  the 
proper  quantity. 

But  1  might  pursue  this  subject  until  I  wearied  you,  dear 
Mary,  and  I  only  wish  to  put  you  on  your  guard  against  the 
too  common  mistakes  of  the  age  in  which  you  live.  There 
can  be  no  proper  standard  for  Christian  virtue,  but  the  Bible; 
and  just  so  much  pride  as  that  directs  you  to  assume,  in  your 
intercourse  with  your  fellow  creatures,  I  will  allow  you  to 
practise.  Self  love  abounds  in  subterfuges.  Wounded  pride 
generally  passes  for  sensibility.  But  how  strangely  is  this 
term  perverted  !  Look  at  that  frowning  brow  ;  mark  those 
swollen  features;  what  is  the  source  of  those  gushing  tears  ? 
— Oh,  my  sensibility  has  been  deeply  wounded — my  delicacy 
is  violated — I  have  been  insulted, — strange  charges  are 
brought  against  me,  and  faults  laid  at  my  door  that  I  never 
heard  of  before ; — but  I  will  resent.  Human  nature  can  bear 
no  more;  my  dignity  requires  that  I  should  resist  such  oppres- 
sion, &c. — Is  this  sensibility  ? — that  feeling  which  melts  at 
the  sorrows  of  others  ?     Alas,  no !  it  is  a  vile  impostor.  It 


40  LETTER  V. 

is  alive  only  to  self.  A  touch  wounds  its  sickly  sensitiveness. 
It  is  prompt  to  inflict  pain,  but  shrinks  from  enduring  it.  It 
defends  itself  before  it  is  attacked,  and  resents  insults  before 
they  have  been  offered.  To  suspect  it  of  imperfection,  is 
to  awaken  its  violenee.  How  different  from  the  benign 
grace  it  would  pass  for !  that  gentleness  of  feeling  which 
emanates  from  the  divine  principle  of  love. 

May  you,  my  dear  girl,  have  the  true  Christian  virtue 
implanted  in  your  renewed  heart. 

I  am  ever  yours. 


LETTER  V. 

Women  Defended  from  the  Charge  of Instability . 

My  Dear  Mary, 

It  has  been  said  by  writers  who  have  pretended  to  com- 
prehend the  female  heart,  that  "woman  is  as  unstable  as 
water,  and  therefore  cannot  excel."  It  is  true  that  caprice 
is  one  of  the  many  foibles  belonging  to  weak  people,  what- 
ever may  be  their  sex  and  age  ;  but  the  fair  impartial  page 
of  history  furnishes  examples  of  exalted  fortitude  and  per- 
severing constancy  in  strong  minded  women. 

In  the  first  place,  I  hold  education  to  be  as  powerful  as 
the  fairy  spells  were  anciently  supposed  to  be,  in  bestowing 
mental  gifts,  or,  I  should  rather  say,  in  forming  rational 
habits. 

It  too  often  happens,  since  women  are  admitted  to  the  pri- 
vilege of  education,  that  some  disproportion  arises  between 
the  different  faculties  of  their  minds,  in  consequence  of  a 
defective  method  of  cultivation.  One  power  of  the  mind  cer- 
tainly may  be  cultivated  at  the  expense  of  another;  as  we  see 
that  one  muscle  or  limb  may  acquire  excessive  strength  or 


LETTER  V.  41 

undue  size  at  the  expense  of  the  health  of  the  whole  body. 
This  is  seldom  advantageous  either  to  the  individual  or  to 
society.  It  is  said,  that  the  inhabitants  of  the  mountainous 
regions  of  Switzerland,  are  vain  of  an  excrescence  by  which 
they  are  deformed ;  and  I  Jiave  known  females  in  like  man- 
ner to  be  vain  of  exhibiting  mental  deformities.  Caprice  has 
been  esteemed  a  grace  in  the  female  character  by  some 
unaccountable  admirer  of  mental  obliquity.  I  have  known 
mothers  to  encourage  in  their  daughters  something  extremely 
like  this  cameleon  quality,  from  an  exceeding  desire  to 
excite  the  admiration  of  nice  critics  in  female  character.  It 
does,  indeed,  seem  that  there  exists  an  insuperable  difficulty 
in  the  education  of  females,  and  their  passage  through  life, 
which  renders  it  impossible  that  their  minds  should  ever 
acquire  that  vigour  and  efficiency  which  accurate  know- 
ledge, and  the  varied  experience  of  life,  alone  can  give.  I 
allude  to  the  peculiar  tastes  of  those  who  are  appointed  as 
umpires,  when  the  subject  of  female  attractions  is  under 
discussion.  As  long  as  the  gentlemen  continue  to  admire 
frivolity,  it  will  be  difficult  to  establish  a  rational  system  of 
female  education.  Precisely  those  qualities  which  are  most 
unfavourable  to  feminine  consistency  and  stability,  are  often 
the  exclusive  objects  of  masculine  admiration  and  applause. 
This,  then,  is  the  true  reason  why  women  are  deficient  in 
strength  of  character,  and  why  they  afford  so  few  proofs  of 
solid  utility.  Another  cause  of  this  characteristic  defect 
may  be,  that  females  are  expected  to  acquire  many  light  and 
graceful  accomplishments,  which  take  up  much  of  the  time 
appropriated  to  education.  Between  persons  of  equal 
genius  and  equal  industry,  time  becomes  the  only  measure 
of  their  acquirements.  Now  if  you  calculate  the  hours 
necessary  to  attain  tolerable  proficiency  in  any  light  accom- 
plishment, and  subtract  them  from  the  period  allotted  to 
female  education,  you  will  see  plainly,  that  those  who  have 
h2 


42  LETTER  V. 

most  feminine  accomplishments,  must  have  been  restricted 
in  the  opportunity  of  acquiring  solid  information. 

If  we  were  to  allow  a  natural  equality  between  male  and 
female  intellect,  still  the  situation  of  women  in  society,  the 
short  period  allotted  to  education,  the  light  pursuits  to 
which  custom  and  fashion  have  addicted  them,  and  many 
other  circumstances  too  tedious  to  detail,  must  all  concur  to 
prevent  their  attaining  any  thing  like  an  equality  in  solid 
information. 

Besides  this,  women  are  necessarily  confined  to  a  sort  of 
monotonous  seclusion,  while  men  mix  with  the  world  with- 
out restraint ;  associating  freely  with  every  variety  of  charac- 
ter, and  expatiating  on  every  scene  in  life  which  lies  open  to 
their  view.  Thus  they  acquire  a  diversity  of  thought, 
and  a  depth  of  experience  in  men  and  things,  of  which 
women  are  wholly  destitute.  I  make  these  remarks  to  show 
the  utter  futility  of  aiming  at  an  equality  between  the  sexes, 
which  neither  nature  nor  education  have  rendered  admis- 
sible. It  is  a  palpable  truism,  that  no  woman  can  be  happy 
or  respectable  in  society  who  does  not  preserve  the  peculiar 
virtues  of  her  sex ;  and  it  is  to  be  feared  that  those  who  emu- 
late the  stronger  sex  in  mental  attainments,  will  make  ship- 
wreck of  their  little  store  of  exclusive  attractions  in  the  pur- 
suit. Of  this,  we  have  had  a  melancholy  proof  in  Mrs. 
Wolstonecraft,  who  rashly  endeavoured  to  break  down  the 
barrier  which  wisdom,  as  well  as  custom,  has  established 
between  the  characteristic  pursuits  of  the  two  sexes. 

Superiority  of  mind  must  be  united  with  great  generosity 
and  good  temper,  to  be  endured  philosophically  by  those 
within  its  influence.  When  this  superiority  is  possessed  by 
women  over  men,  the  task  of  endurance  has  been  found  still 
harder.  Censure  is  a  tax,  too,  which  even  men  have  im- 
posed on  them  by  the  public,  when  they  seek  to  attain 
eminence  of  any  sort;  and  women  have  a  double  portion  of 


LETTER  V.  43 

this  penalty  to  endure.  There  are,  in  short,  innumerable 
reasons  why  women  should  be  content  with  a  moderate  por- 
tion of  those  intellectual  attainments,  to  which  the  sex  have 
been  recently  admitted.  The  deference  paid  to  superiority 
of  intellect  in  females  is  withheld,  unless  that  superiority  is 
accompanied  by  a  singular  degree  of  modesty  and  discretion. 
Men  generally  flatter  with  an  equivocal  air,  when  their 
attention  is  called  to  those  things.  If  the  acquirement  is 
trifling  or  frivolous,  their  flattery  is  more  spontaneous  and 
pleasing.  So  much  depends  on  the  approbation  of  the 
stronger  sex,  that  women  of  cultivated  understandings  some- 
times find  themselves  but  poorly  rewarded  for  their  industry 
in  the  attainment  of  knowledge.  They  meet  either  with  a 
sneer  or  an  equivocal  compliment,  and  have  the  mortifica- 
tion of  finding  that  all  their  trouble  has  only  unfitted  them 
for  pleasing  those  with  whom  they  are  to  spend  their  lives. 
To  this  is  frequently  added  the  poignant  mortification  of 
discovering,  that  some  superficial  girl,  with  a  few  trifling 
accomplishments,  is  preferred  to  them.  The  fact  is,  that 
men  are  jealous  of  literary  and  scientific  ladies,  and  not 
without  cause;  for  though  they  have  little  chance  of  being 
surpassed  in  these  attainments,  they  have  a  pretty  strong 
one  of  finding  no  one  to  superintend  their  domestic  esta- 
blishments with  skill,  or  attend  properly  to  the  homely 
minutiae  of  the  household  department.  This  is  no  incon- 
siderable evil  to  a  man  who  has  entered  into  a  rational 
calculation  of  the  true  requisites  to  domestic  content. 
Therefore  it  is  best  for  women  to  keep  themselves  from 
conflicting  with  the  prejudices  of  the  other  sex.  It  is  better 
to  be  governed  by  weak  reasons,  than  to  be  incapable  of 
being  restrained  by  strong  ones.  Let  them  cultivate  the 
useful  faculties  of  their  minds  as  much  as  they  can ;  let  them 
regulate  their  feelings,  subdue  their  passions,  and  store  their 
memories  with  useful,  practical  facts,  such  as  may  be  brought 
forward   and   interwoven    with    the  ordinary  events  and 


44  LETTER  V. 

pursuits  of  life.  Elaborate  accomplishments  are  of  little  use 
in  domestic  life;  but  a  taste  for  music  or  drawing  may  be 
moderately  cultivated,  and  made  subservient  to  purposes  of 
rational  amusement.  Whatever  embellishes  life  without 
occupying  an  undue  portion  of  time  or  thought,  is  useful 
and  pleasing.  Flowers  may  be  cultivated  without  neglecting 
fruits,  or  the  still  more  important  staple  commodity  of 
bread. 

In  forming  the  female  character,  there  should  be  an 
attempt  made  to  assimilate  its  propensities,  as  well  as  its 
acquisitions,  to  those  of  the  other  sex,  that  harmony  and 
beauty  may  be  produced  by  an  union  of  two  beings  designed 
for  each  other. 

Until  this  becomes  the  specific  object  of  female  education, 
we  must  not  wonder  that  the  conjugal  union  so  often  pro- 
duces dissonance  instead  of  concord.  Women  must  be 
brought  up  in  a  fitness  for  their  conjugal  duties.  For  this 
purpose,  they  must  be  practised  in  the  appropriate  graces  of 
the  conjugal  and  maternal  character.  They  must  not 
shrink  from  obedience,  for  it  is  their  scriptural  duty  ;  from 
subordination,  for  it  is  their  safe  and  proper  grade  in  the 
scale  of  social  life.  Many  other  requisites  ma)'  sound 
harshly  to  ears  unpractised  in  lessons  of  sober  wisdom ;  but 
I  am  thinking  solely  of  promoting  the  rational  happiness  of 
my  sex,  not  of  flattering  their  vanity,  or  pampering  their 
pride.  Were  I  to  contend  for  an  equality  of  rights,  I  am 
not  sure  that  their  happiness  would  be  secured  by  a  full  and 
perfect  success ;  but  with  a  certainty  of  defeat  in  so  chival- 
rous an  undertaking,  I  prefer  pointing  out  the  best  method 
of  using  their  actual  privileges,  to  instituting  an  unprofitable 
contest  for  doubtful  rights.  This  seems  to  be  the  age  of 
experiments  in  the  female  department;  and  I  ardently 
wish  to  see  those  experiments  founded  on  reason  and  tradi- 
tional experience.  Any  mistake  in  such  an  important  mat- 
ter may  have  a  fatal  influence  upon  human  happiness.     I 


LETTER  V.  45 

have  noticed  in  my  own  limited  sphere  of  observation,  that 
those  women  who  have  been  entrusted  with  most  power  over 
others,  have  uniformly  had  least  power  over  themselves. 
The  very  process  of  arranging  rules  for  the  government  of 
others,  seems  to  be  attended  by  an  unconscious  relaxation 
of  the  inward  discipline  of  the  heart  and  temper.  What  is 
it  that  makes  women  sometimes  notorious  for  indulging  an 
irascible  humour  with  their  dependants?  It  is  surely  the 
failure  of  internal  control — the  want  of  secret  restraint.  If 
you  follow  the  history  of  female  nature  as  it  is  recorded  in  the 
annals  of  the  world,  you  will  find  that  female  sovereigns  have 
been  usually  violent  and  despotic  over  the  domestic  circle. 
Queen  Elizabeth  boxed  the  ears  of  her  courtiers  in  a  frenzy 
of  rage,  upon  the  slightest  provocation.  The  unfortunate 
Mary  of  Scotland  was  deficient  in  self-government,  in  a 
point  still  more  dangerous  in  its  effects  upon  her  happiness 
and  respectability.  In  the  august  age  of  Louis  XIV.,  you 
will  find  singular  examples  of  the  abuse  of  power  in  females. 
The  great  and  good  Fenelon  was  disgraced,  because  he 
thwarted  the  ambition  of  Madame  de  Maintenon  ;  and  the 
insane  bigotry  of  the  same  lady  is  supposed  to  have  occa- 
sioned the  revocation  of  the  edict  of  Nantes.  Indeed  it  will 
scarcely  be  too  much  to  assert,  that  the  abuse  of  power  in 
women  has  occasioned  in  many  instances  the  moral  and 
political  decline  of  nations. 

But  I  have  allowed  myself  too  much  latitude  in  discussing 
this  subject.  The  immediate  object  of  my  remarks  is,  to 
attempt  to  reconcile  the  female  sex  to  a  subordinate  station 
in  the  social  compact.  That  is  to  say,  a  station  where  they 
will  be  subject  to  the  rule  of  their  legitimate  superiors  both 
in  moral  and  physical  strength.  This  subordination  is  so 
plainly  in  consonance  with  the  will  of  God,  that  I  am  sur- 
prised to  hear  it  controverted  by  professors  of  religion.  Wo- 
man, in  the  first  place,  was  created  as  a  sort  of  appendage 
to  man,  and  made  inferior  to  him  in  physical  energy,  in 


46  LETTER  V. 

consequence  of  which  she  was  understood  to  have  a  claim 
upon  his  protection  ;  in  return  for  this  protection,  she  was 
to  yield  him  that  allegiance  which  the  great  law  of  nature 
sanctions  the  strong  in  exacting  from  the  weak.  Again,  the 
transgression  of  the  woman  placed  her  in  awful  circum- 
stances, as  the  object  of  heavenly  wrath.  This  penalty  was 
voluntarily  incurred  for  her  sake  by  the  man,  who  abjured 
blesssings  which  he  might  still  have  retained,  rather  than 
separate  himself  from  his  heaven-appointed  companion.  It 
is,  therefore,  the  obvious  duty  of  woman  to  compensate  to 
man,  as  much  as  possible,  for  the  sacrifices  he  has  made  in 
her  behalf;  while  her  paramount  obligations  to  an  offended 
God,  should  induce  the  most  perfect  submission  to  his  re- 
vealed will.  It  surely  is  not  in  resisting  the  adverse 
circumstances  in  which  we  may  be  placed  by  Providence, 
but  in  submitting  to  them,  that  true  obedience  to  the  Al- 
mighty will  be  found  to  consist.  The  proud  heart  of  an 
assuming,  ambitious  female,  may  shrink  from  the  task  of 
obedience  to  a  fellow  worm,  but  it  is,  nevertheless,  an 
imperative  duty  of  her  station,  to  yield  that  submission  to 
her  legitimate.  She  may  writhe  under  the  yoke  of  masculine 
authority,  but  nature,  and  the  God  of  nature,  have  alike 
fitted  it  to  her  neck,  and  her  wisest  alternative  is  patient 
submission. 

The  destiny  of  women  is  sweetened  by  many  of  the 
choicest  mercies  of  her  Creator.  It  is  in  her  heart  that  the 
dove  of  faith  finds  rest  for  the  sole  of  his  foot,  after  he  has 
been  poising  his  weary  wing  over  the  turbulent  ocean  of  hu- 
man passion.  It  is  among  her  peculiar  and  appropriate  vir- 
tues, that  religion  puts  forth  its  freshest  bloom,  like  the  rose 
of  Sharon  amid  the  wildest  scenes  of  sterility.  She  is  happily 
exempt  from  the  necessity  of  mingling  with  the  stormy 
elements  which  compose  general  society ;  where  the  turbu- 
lence of  ambition,  or  the  mad  excitement  of  other  raging 
passions,  sets  man  against  his  fellow  man  like  the  tigers  of 


LETTER  V.  47 

the  desert.  Her's  is  a  sphere  where  the  gentler  virtues  of 
humanity  may  flourish  beneath  her  fostering  smile.  The 
most  deadly  blights  to  human  peace,  fall  not  in  their  keenest 
malignity  within  her  appropriate  scenes  of  action.  Man 
himself  lays  aside  his  rugged  characteristics  when  he  seeks 
the  solace  of  her  society.  The  fiercest  warrior,  or  the  most 
unrelenting  votary  of  stern  ambition,  wears  a  smoother 
aspect,  when  a  gentle  feminine  creature,  formed  after  the 
most  perfect  model  of  her  sex,  crosses  his  path  and  scatters 
roses  among  the  thorns  of  his  appointed  track.  There  is 
not  in  nature  a  more  beautiful  spectacle,  than  that  of  a  fe- 
male, invested  with  all  the  purest  attractions  of  her  sex,  in 
the  act  of  soothing  the  toil-worn  companion  of  her  destiny, 
under  his  characteristic  moodiness  of  humour.  When  he 
comes  from  the  troubled  scenes  of  life,  with  a  cloud  gathered 
over  his  soul,  from  which  the  lightnings  of  human  passion 
flash  fiercely,  as  brooding  thought  supplies  the  electric  fluid, 
she  is  to  him  like  a  sunbeam,  piercing  the  dense  vapour,  and 
shedding  light  and  beauty  over  the  tempest  of  his  feelings. 
And  yet,  my  dear  Mary,  I  have  known  women  who  for- 
bore to  exercise  this  blessed  prerogative  of  their  sex;  who 
imitated  the  scowl  of  discontent  upon  a  husband's  brow, 
rather  than  disperse  its  gloom  by  a  cheerful  greeting. 

Some  women  complain  that  their  husbands  come  home 
moody  and  grave,  when  they  ought  to  bring  smiles  and 
gaiety  to  the  poor  lonely  recluses  of  their  firesides.  Should 
they  not  consider  that  these  coveted  smiles  are  not  so  easily 
found  among  the  cares  and  provocations  of  busy  life?  They 
are,  perhaps,  not,  strictly  speaking,  the  natural  product  of 
any  part  of  this  gloomy  world;  but  they  may  be  brought 
forth  with  a  little  exertion  of  female  ingenuity,  from  the 
simple  materials  which  compose  the  domestic  circle. 

The  woman  who  is  left  in  quiet  among  her  household 
deities,  can  warm  into  life  the  latent  constituents  of  cheer- 
fulness with  more  ease  than  the  overburdened  head  of  the 


48  LETTER  V. 

family,  when  he  goes  abroad  in  pursuit  of  arduous,  and  per- 
haps painful,  duties.  A  little  exertion  is  always  necessary 
to  keep  domestic  life  from  stagnation,  but  it  is  the  peculiar 
province  of  women  to  make  that  exertion. 

Hortensia  is  one  of  those  women,  who  exacts  from  her 
husband  all  those  observances  which  I  have  mentioned  as 
being  peculiarly  attached  to  the  female  department.  She 
was  educated  by  a  despotic  mother  it  is  true,  and  this  mis- 
fortune of  her  early  life  has  shed  a  blight  upon  all  around 
her.  Having  been  restricted  in  liberty  during  her  girlhood, 
she  entered  the  state  of  matrimony  with  delightful  anticipa- 
tions of  emancipation  from  control.  Her  husband  was  a 
man  of  mild  affectionate  temper,  who  yielded  spontaneously 
to  her  requisitions,  without  questioning  their  justice,  or 
objecting  to  the  sacrifice  of  natural  rights  implied  in  them. 
During  the  despotism  of  her  mother's  government,  Hortensia 
had  acquired  such  little  habits  of  deception  as  are  the  natural 
consequences  of  tyrannic  restriction  in  childhood.  Children 
who  are  unnaturally  restrained,  soon  learn  to  indemnify 
themselves  surreptitiously,  when  the  eye  of  their  tyrant  is 
not  immediately  upon  them.  They  contract  sly  habits  of 
evasion,  which  insensibly  mature  into  the  practice  of  syste- 
matic deceit.  It  was  thus  with  Hortensia.  She  was  aware 
of  this  defect  in  her  character,  but  she  deemed  it  too  slight 
to  require  correction,  and  thought  herself  rather  to  be  pitied 
than  blamed  for  the  misfortune  which  had  occasioned  it.  She 
would  speak  candidly  of  the  errors  of  her  education,  and  at- 
tribute to  them  the  faults  of  her  mature  years,  without 
thinking  it  at  all  necessary  to  correct  them.  From  having 
been  forced  in  childhood  to  practise  implicit  obedience, 
she  contracted  a  belief  that  nothing  was  more  essential  to 
happiness,  than  to  rule  others  as  she  herself  had  been 
ruled.  Strange  error,  to  suppose  that  because  the  abuse  of 
power  makes  the  subject  of  it  miserable,  it  should  there- 
fore make  the  person  who  practises  it  happy  !     I  believe 


LETTER  V.  49 

it  will  be  found  that  the  tyrant  is  as  miserable  as  the  person 
over  whom  he  tyrannizes.  Hortensia  had  a  submissive 
husband,  and  yet  she  was  not  happy  in  her  uncontrolled 
exercise  of  conjugal  power.  No  woman  can  be;  because 
she  is  violating  the  law  of  nature  and  of  God,  and  the  human 
heart  is  so  constituted,  that  even  the  slender  portion  of  hap- 
piness allowed  to  mortals  can  only  be  found  in  the  path  of 
duty.  Hortensia  thought  the  cause  of  her  unhappiness 
was  attributable  to  some  defect  in  her  husband's  modes  of 
yielding  his  will  to  her's.  She  complained  of  the  slightest 
instances  of  self-gratification  in  her  willing  slave.  She 
reproached  him  for  not  rejoicing  sufficiently  in  his  privilege 
of  conjugal  obedience.  "  If  he  loved  her  as  he  ought,  he 
would  be  more  cheerful  when  he  did  any  thing  to  gratify 
her.  If  she  was  as  dear  to  him  as  she  ought  to  be,  he 
would  wear  a  more  cheerful  aspect  habitually,  and  never 
give  way  to  gloom  in  her  presence.  She,  to  be  sure,  had 
been  unfortnnate  in  her  early  life,  and  could  not,  therefore, 
be  blamed  for  irregular  spirits;  but  he  had  never  been  re- 
strained unnaturally;  his  spirits  ought  to  be  always  good." 
Hortensia,  always  restless  and  full  of  schemes,  imagined  that 
her  husband  endeavoured  to  thwart  her  secretly,  and  this 
suspicion  gave  her  full  authority  to  practise  those  arts  of 
deception  which  the  necessities  of  her  girlhood  had  taught 
her.  A  thousand  little  plans  were  laid  to  overthrow  his 
fancied  assumption  of  power  ;  and  these  gave  scope  to  the 
perverted  ingenuity  of  her  mind.  Her  friends  were  assured 
that  they  could  not  see  half  the  difficulties  of  the  case. 
"  They  were  not  experienced  like  her  in  detecting  stratagems 
to  overthrow  or  supersede  her  legitimate  authority.  They 
knew  not  half  the  strangeness  of  the  man  she  had  to  deal 
with.  To  them,  her  husband  appeared  very  complaisant 
and  obliging,  even  self-denying /  but  it  was  only  artifice  in 
him  ;  he  was  self  willed  and  obstinate  enough  in  reality.  To 
be  sure,  he  was  an  excellent  man;  she  was  proud  of  his  virtues; 
E 


50  LETTER  V. 

but  with  all  his  good  qualities,  he  was  like  other  husbands  in 
this  world,  fond  of  having  his  own  way  in  all  things.'' 

Thus  this  "excellent  and  virtuous  man"  contrived  to 
keep  alive  the  suspicion  and  disapprobation  of  his  wife,  and 
to  maintain  a  constant  flow  of  querulous  complaints  against 
him.  His  plans  were  slily  circumvented  before  they  were, 
formed  5  and  Hortensia  reproached  him  with  disingenuous- 
ness,  because  he  would  not  acknowledge  that  she  was  right 
in  attributing  them  to  him.  When  she  carried  her  own 
point  triumphantly,  she  could  not  enjoy  her  victory,  because 
he  would  not  acknowledge  that  he  had  set  his  heart  upon 
doing  exactly  the  reverse,  and  had  sacrificed  his  will  to  hers. 
"  Oh,  to  be  sure,"  she  would  say,  "  you  deserve  no  great 
praise  for  giving  up  to  me,  when  you  have  no  will  of  your 
own  on  the  subject.  I  confess  now,  that  a  husband,  to  be 
a  good  one,  ought  to  show  the  world,  that  he  is  willing  to 
give  up  the  point  he  is  most  set  upon  in  the  world,  solely  to 
please  his  wife.77  "  Well,  but,  Hortensia,  cannot  you  be 
satisfied  to  have  your  own  way,  unless  it  implies  a  positive 
sacrifice  of  mine  ?"  said  he,  smilingly,  one  day.  "  To  be 
sure  not!"  was  her  reply.  "  If  I  wish  to  prove  that  you 
are  a  good  husband,  how  can  I  do  it  unless  you  give  up 
your  will  to  mine?  You  know  how  I  have  been  thwarted 
all  my  life,  and  you  ought  to  be  pleased  to  crop  yourself 
for  my  sake."  Thus  was  poor  Hortensia  made  miserable 
in  the  midst  of  acknowledged  supremacy,  because  her  power 
was  exercised  without  giving  pain  to  her  subjects.  She  had 
been  unhappy  while  under  subjection  herself,  and  she  could 
not  be  content  without  inflicting  the  same  degree  of  unhap- 
piness  on  another.  This  seemed  but  just  retribution  to  her, 
and  any  thing  short  of  it  did  not  indemnify  her  for  her  former 
sufferings. 

These  errors,  derived  from  a  faulty  education,  have  been 
persisted  in,  from  an  imaginary  necessity ;  whereas  a  little 
exertion   of  moral  strength  would   have   removed  them. 


LETTER  VI.  51 

Hortensia  claims  compassion,  from  having  been  brought  up 
defectively,  and  persists  in  making  herself,  and  those  around 
her  unhappy,  merely  because  she  has  been  so  herself  in 
girlhood. 

So  much  for  attempting  to  rule,  when  Providence  has 
ordained  that  we  should  be  ruled. 

Believe  me,  dear  Mary,  ever  yours. 


LETTER  VI. 

Danger  of  associating  with    amiable   Females  who    are 
ivithoat  Religion. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

You  have,  among  your  nearest  connexions,  some  uncom- 
mon specimens  of  female  worth,  without  that  faith  in  the 
Redeemer  which  should  be  the  basis  of  all  morality,  and 
which  you  have  been  taught  to  think  especially  indispensa- 
ble to  your  own  sex.  Doubtless  when  you  yield  yourself  to 
the  charms  of  their  society,  you  are  ready  to  ask,  "  Can 
there  be  no  exception  to  the  rule  so  imperatively  assigned 
to  me  as  a  criterion  of  moral  worth  ?"  This  hesitation  is 
natural,  but  it  is  unsafe,  my  dear  Mary;  and  you  must 
accustom  yourself  to  consider  these  very  attractive  friends 
of  yours  as  dangerous  intimates,  if  they  do  not  (as  I  ardently 
hope  they  will)  lay  down  their  unbelief  at  the  foot  of  the 
cross. 

You  know,  my  dear  girl,  how  plain,  unequivocal,  and 
unsusceptible  of  evasion,  is  the  rule  laid  down  in  Holy  Writ, 
as  the  sole  foundation  of  all  hopes  of  salvation.  When  our 
Saviour  said  to  Nicodemus,  "  Except  ye  be  born  again,  ye 
cannot  enter  the  kingdom  of  God,"  do  you  suppose  that  he 


52  LETTER  VI. 

gave  him  credit  for  his  sound  morality,  and  let  him  hope 
for  salvation  through  his  own  good  deeds  ?  Assuredly  not. 
The  most  blameless  and  spotless  character  on  earth,  nay, 
the  most  actively  benevolent  of  mortal  men,  cannot  enter 
heaven,  without  faith  in  the  atoning  blood  of  Christ.  Lay 
this  holy  truth  to  your  heart,  my  dear  Mary,  and  suffer  no 
possible  maxim  of  worldly  sophistry — no  subtle  evasion  of 
miscalled  charity,  to  taint  its  sanctity.  It  is  God's  own  holy 
truth,  and  man  will  not  be  held  guiltless  when  he  deviates 
one  iota  from  its  sanctified  validity.  No  deeds  can  be 
accepted  in  heaven,  however  brilliant  their  aspect  to  the 
eye  of  man,  until  the  being  who  performs  them  has  been 
justified  by  faith  in  the  Redeemer. 

This  sounds  paradoxical  to  human  ears,  and  according  to 
merely  human  judgment.  But  you  know,  my  dear  Mary, 
that  the  Lord  himself  has  declared,  that  his  ways  are  not  as 
our  ways,  nor  his  thoughts  as  our  thoughts. 

I  do  not  say,  that  virtuous  deeds  are  not  admirable  in  our 
eyes,  when  performed  by  the  unregenerate;  on  the  contrary, 
I  acknowledge  in  myself  a  capacity  of  ardent  admiration  for 
the  virtues  even  of  heathen  men  ;  but  the  Lord  has  declared, 
that  the  most  brilliant  deeds  of  the  virtuous  are  unacceptable 
to  him,  unless  they  are  prompted  by  the  desire  of  promoting 
his  glory.  Deeds  cannot  be  virtuous  in  his  sight,  until  the 
heart  that  prompts  them  has  been  born  again  of  the  Spirit, 
for  nothing  really  good  can  proceed  from  the  natural  heart. 
Unless  the  sinner  is  first  justified  through  faith  in  Christ,  his 
fairest  actions  are  prompted  by  some  motive  connected  with 
carnal  feelings,  and  therefore  they  must  be  impure  in  the 
sight  of  God.  With  regard  to  your  unconverted  friends, 
my  dear  Mary,  I  see  much  in  them  to  attract  affection ;  for 
they  are  gentle  and  generous,  sensible  and  enlightened. 
Their  conversation  is  far  more  innocent,  and  even  instructive, 
than  that  of  many  professing  Christians  of  my  acquaintance, 
They  speak  of  books,  not  persons,  and  therefore  they  rarely 


LETTER  VI.  53 

tread  the  contaminated  path  of  slander,  or  taint  their 
thoughts  with  the  unholy  breathings  of  malicious  scandal. 
Alas,  how  many  souls  are  hurried  to  the  realms  of  eternal 
darkness,  by  the  envenomed  habit  of  perverting  truth  for 
the  purpose  of  winning  others  over  to  the  unholy  prejudices 
of  a  corrupt  heart !  How  often  do  words  heedlessly  uttered 
warp  the  erect  dignity  of  truth,  till  it  stoops  to  minister  to 
the  impure  cravings  of  a  diseased  soul.  But  let  us  forsake 
this  sad  subject.  There  is  danger,  my  dear  girl,  in  asso- 
ciating with  those  who  are  amiable  and  endearing  in  their 
manners,  without  blemish  on  their  characters,  and  yet 
destitute  of  religion. 

The  arch  enemy  of  souls  is  never  better  pleased  than 
when  he  can  interest  professors  in  what  has  no  reference  to 
Christianity.  This  is  a  great  danger  in  your  situation,  and 
one  against  which  I  would  guard  you  particularly.  You 
doubtless  feel  mortified  when  your  friends  dissent  from  your 
opinions  on  sacred  subjects,  or  when  they  shun  all  con- 
versation which  tends  towards  them.  You  feel  humbled 
also,  when  you  present  some  leading  truth  in  what  you 
think  a  striking  point  of  view,  to  their  notice,  and  they  turn 
coldly  from  the  contemplation,  or  else  lightly  evade  the 
topic.  All  these  difficulties  will  suggest  to  you,  at  length 
the  propriety  of  refraining  from  every  subject  immediately 
connected  with  your  faith,  and  dwelling  in  safe  neutrality 
and  silence  for  the  present.  There  is  evil  in  all  these 
things,  my  young  friend,  and  I  wish  to  warn  you  from  the 
worst  shades  of  such  a  ment&l  calamity  as  must  be  insepa- 
rable from  infidelity. 

In  the  first  place,  then,  you  must  guard  against  falling 
into  a  supine  state,  while  you  are  seeking  to  quell  the 
unpleasant  feelings  arising  from  the  unbelief  of  your  friends. 
Never  forget  to  feel  for  their  danger ;  never  cease  to  pray 
for  their  conversion;  never,  above  all,  suffer  your  feelings 
of  interest  to  subside  for  a  moment  into  the  calmness  of 
e2 


54  LETTER  VI. 

indifference.  Pray  unceasingly,  and  with  all  the  ardour  of 
your  soul,  for  the  change  from  death  unto  life,  of  those 
deservedly  dear  to  you.  Something  must  be  decidedly 
wrong  when  the  believing  and  unbelieving  live  together 
without  a  constant  recurrence  to  the  circumstances  of  their 
state,  either  in  conversation  or  in  thought.  Such  a  state 
of  things  argues  both  coldness  of  faith  and  indifference  of 
friendship.  For  you  must  love  the  Lord  little  indeed,  if 
you  do  not  strive  to  win  souls  for  his  kingdom  ;  and  the  chill 
of  death  must  have  fallen  upon  your  friendship,  when  you 
cease  to  desire  the  kingdom  of  heaven  for  those  you  profess 
to  love. 

Beware  then,  my  young  friend,  how  you  feel,  and  how 
you  act  in  the  society  of  those  of  whom  T  have  spoken.  Be 
assured  that  if  you  remain  together  long  without  a  change 
for  the  better  in  them,  you  will  have  much  reason  to  expect 
an  alteration  for  the  worse  in  yourself.  You  must  either 
raise  them  towards  your  level,  or  you  must  insensibly  be 
drawn  downwards  towards  theirs. 

There  are  many  people  who  imagine,  that  by  insisting  so 
much  on  the  necessity  of  faith,  we  undervalue  good  works. 
This  opinion  is  very  much  quoted  by  those  who  consider 
an  evangelical  faith  as  something  chimerical.  But  I  affirm, 
in  common  with  all  spiritual  believers,  that  true  faith  can 
be  known  only  by  its  works.  This  was  the  test  proposed 
by  the  Apostle  James,  who  declares  himself  ready  to  show 
his  faith  by  his  works,  whilst  he  affirms,  that  faith  without 
works  is  dead.  [See  2d  chap.  Epistle  of  James.] 

It  is  a  common  expedient  with  unbelieving  disputants  to 
accuse  those  who  lay  a  stress  upon  the  necessity  of  faith,  of 
insinuating  that  mere  morality  is  quite  unnecessary.  Now, 
though  there  can  certainly  be  very  pretty  morality  without 
religion,  yet  there  certainly  can  be  no  religion  without 
morality.  For  instance,  persons  may  deny  the  Lord  that 
died  for  them,  and   yet   maintain   a  very  correct   moral 


LETTER  VI.  55 

deportment;   whereas  no  one  gives  credit  to  the  faith  of  a 
Christian  who  swerves  from  the  moral  law  in  practice. 

Your  unbelieving  friends  are,  doubtless,  exceedingly  cor- 
rect in  their  conduct,  for  they  are  greatly  respected  and 
beloved  as  virtuous  individuals.  They  meet  the  reward  of 
their  virtues  in  the  love  and  approbation  of  all  who  know 
them.  But  you,  my  dear  girl,  look  for  a  higher  and  more 
enduring  reward;  not  for  an  equally  moral  conduct ;  not, 
indeed,  for  any  merits  which  you  can  plead  ;  but  because 
the  Saviour  in  whom  you  believe,  has  been  pleased  to 
declare,  that  "He  will  reward  those  who  diligently  seek 
him."  Endeavour,  then,  to  show  forth  your  faith  by  your 
works,  so  as  to  make  it  attractive  to  your  friends.  You 
must  do  this,  not  by  a  sinful  acquiescence  in  what  your  con- 
science denies,  and  your  heart  disproves  ;  not  by  practising 
that  spurious  virtue  so  much  vaunted  in  the  world  under  the 
name  of  charity,  which  consists  in  admitting  what  the  word 
of  God  imperatively  denies  ;  not  in  conforming  to  the 
manners  and  practices  of  the  world,  under  the  plea  of  avoid- 
ing intolerance  and  over  strictness  :  but  in  a  steady,  sys- 
tematic performance  of  christian  duty;  a  firm  and  clear 
declaration  of  Christian  faith ;  a  diligent  maintenance  of 
those  graces  of  the  christian  character,  which  speak  more 
strongly  in  favour  of  the  religion  you  profess,  than  volumes 
of  verbal  panegyric.  And  to  sum  up  all  in  one  expression, 
let  your  religion  be  profitable  to  all  around  you,  and  it  will 
soon  establish  your  cause  and  the  cause  of  God  in  righteous- 
ness. Some  Christians  express  great  sorrow  for  the  condition 
of  their  unbelieving  friends,  and  do  really  deceive  themselves 
into  a  belief  of  their  sincerity.  But  these  are  people  not  very 
much  accustomed  to  examine  the  ground  of  their  frequent 
declarations.  Ask  them  if  they  pray  earnestly  for  their 
conversion — if  they  really  do  warm  their  energies  in  behalf 
of  their  friends  by  much  meditation  on  their  spiritual  danger 
— if  they  struggle  for  this  blessing  with  many  tears  and  sup- 


56  LETTER  VII. 

plications — if  they  shrink  with  horror  from  the  prospect  of 
entering  heaven  without  any  hope  of  seeing  there  these  dear 
objects  of  their  love  ?  All  these  interrogatories  may  serve 
to  surprise  the  soul  out  of  its  supine  forgetfulness  ;  for  none 
can  persist  in  saying  that  they  really  desire  a  thing  which 
they  have  never  even  prayed  for.  And  what  must  be  the 
spiritual  condition  of  that  person  who  slights  the  necessities 
of  his  dearest  friends?  who  does  not  meditate  upon  their 
forlorn  state,  nor  supplicate  the  Lord  to  change  it?  who 
sees  unbelief  secure  in  false  peace  before  his  eyes,  and  thinks 
of  no  means  to  avert  the  danger  ?  Can  this,  I  repeat  it,  be 
true  friendship  or  true  religion  ?  Let  us  be  wary,  my  dear 
Mary.  Let  us  scan  our  state  narrowly.  We  cannot  be  useful 
subjects  of  Christ's  kingdom  while  we  sit  down  carelessly 
with  the  unbelievers  of  our  own  household,  and  omit  to  plead 
daily  for  their  conversion ;  neither  can  our  own  case  be  pre- 
cisely safe,  when  we  forget  the  imperious  requisitions  of 
religion,  in  the  allurements  of  manners,  or  any  mere  carnal 
advantage  possessed  by  those  around  us.  May  the  Lord 
forgive  and  strengthen  us,  for  the  best  of  us  are  but  unpro- 
fitable servants. 

I  remain  your  true  friend. 


LETTER  VII. 

Mistakes  in  Religion. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

Some  one  has  reported  to  me,  that  one  of  your  most 
interesting  friends  has  lately  professed  religion.  I  earnestly 
pray  this  may  be  true;  but  there  are  so  many  counterfeits 
abroad,  that  I  am  always  fearful  of  giving  way  to  hope, 


LETTER  VII.  57 

without  proper  ground  for  indulging  it.  The  lady  in  question 
is  so  popular,  and  so  much  beloved  in  her  erroneous  faith, 
that  I  have  thought  her  situation  one  of  little  encouragement 
to  hope.  Many  fallacious  signs  of  conversion  appear  in  those 
gentle,  amiable  characters,  which  give  rise  to  reports  such  as 
I  have  heard.  But  I  know  with  how  much  complacency 
even  Christians  sometimes  assimilate  themselves  with  good 
amiable  people  of  the  world.  They  lose  sight  of  the  danger 
of  associating  with  unbelievers,  and  even  encourage  their 
unbelief,  by  overlooking  that  most  prominent  defect  of  their 
characters,  in  consideration  of  some  minor  attraction  of  mind 
or  manner.  They  even  extol  their  associates  for  the  goodness 
of  their  hearts,  when  the  Bible  (which  they  profess  to  take 
for  their  rule  of  life)  tells  them  that  the  unconverted  heart  is 
"  desperately  wicked."  This  is  rather  inconsistent;  but  we 
soon  learn  that  in  this  world  the  same  terms  have  different 
meanings  when  applied  to  different  things.  A  moral  man  is 
respected  among  his  fellow  beings ;  but  mere  morality  will  not 
carry  him  to  heaven  ;  for  "  without  holiness  no  man  can  see 
the  Lord."  Christianity  must  make  a  man  moral ;  but  all 
the  morality  in  the  world  cannot  make  him  a  Christian. 

The  first  work  of  the  Holy  Spirit  on  the  heart  is  to  esta- 
blish upright  principles  on  a  sure  basis.  When  a  man 
forsakes  sin  because  he  loves  God,  his  conduct  will  become 
radically  correct,  and  there  will  be  a  beautiful  conformity 
between  his  principles  and  his  actions.  But  when  his  sins 
are  restrained  only  through  the  fear  of  worldly  censure,  or 
desire  of  worldly  approbation,  the  restraint  will  be  only 
external.  The  heart  will  still  retain  the  germ  of  worldly 
passions,  which  will  continue  to  work  in  secret,  and  to  pour 
out  their  influence  in  many  a  silent  stream  upon  the  world. 
Many  think  they  will  go  to  heaven,  because  their  lives  are 
outwardly  virtuous  ;  but  this  belief  is  prompted  most  obvi- 
ously by  the  deceitfulness  of  the  desperately  wicked  heart. 
It  is  not  sanctioned  by  scripture,  and  it  will  fail  to  support 


5&  LETTER  VII. 

the  spirits  in  that  honest  hour,  when  worldly  things  assume 
their  true  value  in  human  estimation.  Such  men  will  be 
then  found  to  have  dishonoured  God;  and  remorse  of  spirit 
will  overwhelm  them  in  the  season  of  conviction ;  they 
have  been  only  seeking  the  applause  of  man,  while  they 
have  arrogated  to  themselves  a  higher  principle  of  action. 
The  approbation  of  God  they  cannot  attain,  for  they  have 
not  striven  for  it  in  the  manner  prescribed  by  himself. 
Dreadful  indeed  will  be  the  moment  when  worldly  delusions 
forsake  the  soul,  and  it  beholds  its  past  thoughts,  impulses, 
and  actions,  by  the  refulgent  beams  of  truth,  then  bursting,  for 
the  first  time,  upon  the  startled  sight.  How  inconceivably 
trifling  those  interests  will  then  appear,  which  have  pos- 
sessed magnitude  sufficient  to  mislead  the  deluded  spirit 
through  all  the  changing  scenes  of  life.  As  a  man  thinketh 
in  his  heartf  so  is  he  ;  not  as  he  acts  outwardly,  under  the 
impulse  of  worldly  motives. 

The  carnal  heart  is  still  enmity  against  God,  even  when 
the  outward  actions  are  apparently  conformable  to  reason 
and  religion.  Christian  graces  and  worldly  virtues  are 
totally  different  things.  The  first  spring  from  the  regene- 
rate heart,  and  bear  an  impress,  however  faint,  of  holiness. 
The  last  bear  the  inward  stamp  of  selfishness,  that  inherent 
root  of  bitterness.  The  first  have  the  glory  of  God  for 
their  permanent  object,  the  last  tend  only  to  temporal 
profit  or  pleasure. 

But  there  is  yet  another  grade  of  morals  which  is  attained 
by  a  strict  attention  to  the  forms  of  religion.  These  mo- 
ralists affect  to  enlist  with  the  Saviour,  and  wear  his  livery, 
while  they  are  strangers  to  his  spirit.  The  service  is  diffi- 
cult, and  they  loiter  behind  while  others  are  bearing  the 
burden  and  heat  of  the  day;  though  if  they  are  questioned 
as  to  the  service  in  which  they  have  engaged,  they  point  to 
the  common  emblem  of  salvation,  the  cross  of  the  Re- 
deemer, as   their  acknowledged  standard.     The  forms  of 


LETTER  VII.  59 

religion  may  be  maintained  without  a  change  of  heart. 
They  may  be  scrupulously  observed,  with  as  much  tenacity 
as  if  every  feeling  and  faculty  were  interested  in  their 
observance.  When  religion  revives  in  a  community,  many 
assume  it  as  a  sort  of  fashion.  Some  are  educated  in  its 
forms,  and  some  adhere  to  them  from  custom.  They  tread 
the  path  of  duty,  because  it  is  the  plainest,  not  because  it  is 
the  pleasantest.  Many,  again,  are  merely  sensible  of  the 
necessity  of  religion.  They  think  it  a  moral  agent  of  great 
power,  and  therefore  wish  to  engage  it  in  meliorating  the 
condition  of  man.  Conscience  at  the  same  time  warns 
them  in  secret,  that  their  natural  propensities  require 
restraint.  These  take  up  religion  as  a  kind  of  check,  with- 
out intending  a  radical  amendment.  They  begin  right, 
but  they  stop  short  of  efficient  piety,  and  never  make  the 
discovery  of  their  own  inability  to  overcome  nature.  The 
sincere  seeker  after  truth,  meanwhile,  becomes  aware  that 
his  old  nature  is  incapable  of  amendment,  and  he  turns  with 
avidity  towards  that  principle  which  holds  forth  a  new 
heart  to  the  convicted  sinner  as  the  reward  of  his  penitence 
and  contrition.  He  finds  that  men  may  sometimes  do  right 
without  this  radical  change,  but  that  total  and  entire  reforma- 
tion is  a  thing  not  to  be  effected  without  the  grace  of  God. 

Again,  there  are  some  who  profess  Christianity  from  a 
mere  speculative  knowledge  of  its  doctrines.  This  know- 
ledge is  certainly  necessary  to  spiritual  attainments;  but  it 
cannot  supply  their  place.  We  must  not  only  know  God, 
but  we  must  love  him,  before  we  can  be  Christians. 

Wicked  men,  you  know,  are  sometimes  speculative  be- 
lievers; and  the  devils  themselves  believe  and  tremble. 
They  hold  orthodox  opinions,  and  are  well  versed  in  Scrip- 
ture. Satan  himself  is  a  profound  theologian,  as  far  as 
speculative  knowledge  goes.  He  would  not  so  well  know 
how  to  mislead  people,  if  he  was  not  intimately  acquainted 
with  the  truth  :  And  though  he  is  denominated  the  father  of 


60  LETTER  VII. 

lies,  there  is  not  a  holy  truth  revealed  in  the  Bible,  which  he 
does  not  know  and  believe.  He  has  deeper  knowledge 
than  many  professing  Christians,  and  this  enables  him  to 
pervert  those  truths  that  they  are  ignorant  of.  Speculative 
knowledge  improves  the  head,  while  the  heart  remains  in 
its  native  depravity.  Men  may  know  God  without  loving 
him  ;  but  he  will  not  save  them  unless  they  love  him  as 
well  as  know  him.  They  may  have  the  knowledge  that 
puffeth  up,  and  not  that  which  edifieth.  Let  no  hope  of 
salvation  rest  on  a  speculative  knowledge  of  the  Bible. 
Deception  in  this  case  is  easy,  though  it  is  fatal.  People 
who  are  not  experimentally  acquainted  with  real  religion, 
very  naturally  mistake  the  shadow  for  the  substance.  The 
form  of  godliness  may  be  assumed  with  pleasure  and  profit. 
The  Pharisees  were  distinguished  for  their  outward  sanctity, 
though  their  hearts  were  compared  to  a  sepulchre;  and  it  is 
fearful  to  think,  that  many  in  the  present  day  resemble 
them  closely.  Many  persons  read  their  Bibles,  and  attend 
the  ordinances  of  religion,  while  their  unchanged  hearts  are 
full  to  overflowing  of  worldly  conceits  and  affections.  They 
know  no  more  of  vital  piety  than  nonprofessors,  while  they 
continue  to  draw  near  to  the  altar  in  cold  formality,  and 
assume  to  themselves  the  name  and  prerogatives  of  real 
Christians.  But  the  all-seeing  eye  discerns  the  progress  of 
self-deception,  and  it  is  often  his  holy  will,  that  the  subtle 
craftiness  of  the  evil  one,  should  be  disappointed  in  its 
effects;  and  the  object  selected  as  his  victim,  rescued  from 
his  power. 

Do  not  think  me  tedious,  dear  Mary,  in  thus  marking  out 
the  various  sorts  of  religion  which  pass  current  in  this  delu- 
sive world  for  a  pure  and  vital  faith. 

There  is  yet  another  class  to  which  I  must  allude.  It  is 
that  which  consists  of  persons  who  have  attained  a  convic- 
tion that  they  are  sinners,  and  yet  have  not  received  Christ 
as  a  Saviour.     They  dread  sin  without  knowing  how  to 


LETTER  VII.  61 

avoid  it.  They  exhaust  themselves  in  fruitless  efforts  to 
cleanse  their  own  hearts;  while  the  Bible  still  proclaims, 
"  Come  to  me,  and  be  ye  healed  and  cleansed."  All  their 
works  are  abortive  ;  for  they  are  done  in  their  own  strength, 
whereas  Christ  says,  "  Without  me,  ye  can  do  nothing." 
"  My  strength  is  made  perfect  in  your  weakness." 

They  mistake  the  power  of  coming  to  the  Saviour,  or 
remaining  aloof  from  him,  for  the  power  of  rectifying  their 
own  errors.  They  will  not  come  to  him  and  have  life,  for 
they  have  a  vague  hope  that  life  will  come  to  them  without 
this  concession.  Thus  they  loiter  till  the  day  of  grace  is 
past.  Now  Christ  does  not  invest  his  creatures  with  the 
moral  ability  to  do  the  work  of  sanctification  themselves, 
but  he  promises  to  work  in  them  the  radical  change  from 
death  unto  life.  They  must  understand  and  accept  these 
conditions,  before  the  covenant  of  grace  can  be  laid  hold  of, 
as  securing  to  them  the  blessings  which  it  proffers.  Man  is 
able  to  come  to  Christ  that  he  may  be  saved,  but  he  cannot 
save  himself  without  the  agency  of  the  Saviour.  Salvation 
is  the  prerogative  of  omnipotence  alone ;  but  if  the  sinner 
feels  the  necessity  of  it,  God  is  most  willing  to  undertake 
the  holy  work.  Man  must  be  willing  to  receive  grace,  or 
it  will  not  be  imparted  to  him.  He  may  mar  his  happi- 
ness by  the  misuse  of  his  own  moral  faculties,  just  as  the 
first  of  his  race  lost  Paradise.  But  through  Christ,  God  can 
save  him,  and  if  he  complies  with  the  conditions  made 
known  explicitly  in  his  word,  "  God  will  save  to  the  utter- 
most all  who  come  to  him." 

Some  receive  salvation  gladly  on  the  Lord's  own  terms, 
while  some  hesitate,  as  if  they  could  make  other  conditions 
for  themselves.  This  is  both  foolish  and  irreverent.  It  is 
as  little  as  we  can  do  for  him  who  died  for  us,  to  consent 
that  he  shall  save  us  in  his  own  manner. 

But  some  people  find  their  moral  faculties  any  thing  but 
free,  for  their  exercise  is  impeded  by  a  thousand  strange 
F  . 


62  LETTER  VII, 

devices  of  Satan.     Prejudice  draws  them  one  way  and  pride 
another,  while  the  freedom  of  choice  is  completely  destroyed. 

I  remember  hearing  a  tale  when  I  was  a  child,  which  is 
somewhat  applicable  to  the  subject  of  this  letter. 

An  old  man  had  two  sons,  who  were  one  day  surprised 
by  the  sight  of  a  lion  coming  towards  them,  in  a  field  near 
their  father's  house.  They  saw  their  danger,  and  looked 
around  for  help.  On  one  side,  there  was  a  high  wall, 
which  surrounded  their  father's  dwelling,  on  the  other  side 
of  which,  they  herd  the  old  man's  voice  affectionately  exhort- 
ing them  to  come  to  him,  and  find  safety.  One  of  the 
youths  determined  to  obey  this  injunction,  but  his  brother 
opposed  him  vehemently — "  Do  you  not  see,"  said  he,  '  that 
the  wall  is  insurmountable? — its  height  is  immense.  The 
lion  will  pursue  us  until  we  reach  it,  and  then  find  us  an  easy 
prey.  I  will  trust  to  my  speed,  and  attempt  to  escape  in  the 
opposite  direction."  "But,"' said  the  other  in  reply,  "  do 
you  not  hear  our  father  urging  us  to  climb  the  wall  ? — surely 
he  would  not  do  this  if  the  thing  was  impracticable."  u  I 
don't  care,"  said  the  other,  "go  your  way,  and  I  will  go 
mine."  There  was  no  time  for  farther  parley.  The  dutiful 
son  followed  his  father's  advice,  and  fled  towards  the  wall. 
As  he  approached,  he  discerned  a  ladder  of  ropes  suspended 
from  the  summit,  on  which  he  rapidly  ascended.  He  did 
not  fail  to  call  aloud,  announcing  this  intelligence  to  his 
brother,  but  his  eyes  turned  towards  him  only  to  behold  his 
destruction. 

I  have  now  pointed  out  to  you,  my  dear  Mary,  the  dif- 
ferent semblances  of  Christianity,  which  pass  current  with 
superficial  people  for  real  conversion.  May  you  be  enabled 
to  avoid  these  deceptions  yourself,  while  you  become  quali- 
fied to  warn  others  from  similar  dangers.  First  come  to 
Christ,  and  there,  leave  it  to  him  to  work  in  you  the  requisite 
regeneration.  Remember  the  sufficiency  of  his  grace,  and 
efficiency  of  his  strength,  to  sustain. you  under  every  trial. 
I  am,  with  true  affection,  ever  yours. 


(  63   ) 

LETTER  VIII. 

Influence  of  Religion  on  the  Temper. 
My  Dear  Mary, 

Having  explained  to  you  the  nature  of  true  conversion,  I 
wish  now  to  point  out  some  of  the  Christian  graces  which 
are  most  lovely  in  a  female  disciple.  Remember  that  good 
works  are  the  only  test  of  a  true  faith ;  and  let  your  works, 
therefore,  be  mainifest  as  a  testimony  of  the  sufficiency  of 
that  faith.  Without  the  aid  of  the  Spirit  of  God,  the  human 
heart  remains  in  the  same  imperfect  state  which  is  natural 
to  man  ;  but  shall  Christ  do  nothing  for  you  after  you  have 
complied  with  the  condition  of  his  covenant?  Assuredly  yes. 
Whatever  defect  of  character  may  have  been  conspicuous  in 
you  before,  is  now  to  be  amended  by  the  all  efficient  grace 
of  God.  Try  your  heart,  and  prove  its  wicked  ways,  that 
they  may  be  subjected  to  the  healing  Spirit.  There  is  no 
Christian  grace  of  greater  value  than  a  gentle  temper;  and 
yet  few  women  take  the  trouble  to  acquire  one,  if  nature 
has  denied  them  the  blessing.  Surely  this  cannot  be 
because  they  undervalue  the  quality.  It  contributes  more 
to  happiness  than  intellectual  superiority,  or  wealth, 
however  abundant,  or  any  thing  that  my  pen  can  enume- 
rate. u  Blessed  are  the  meek,  for  they  shall  inherit  the 
earth."  Behold,  the  full  and  undivided  inheritance  of 
earthly  good  is  awarded  to  the  meek  in  spirit.  They 
shall  inherit  all  the  good  things  of  earth.  That  is  to  say, 
all  the  real  blessings  that  fall  to  the  lot  of  humanity  shall 
be  enjoyed  by  the  meek  spirited.  They  shall  possess 
their  souls  in  peace,  amid  the  strifes  and  turmoils  of  ambi- 
tious and  craving  spirits.  They  are  sure  of  winning  the 
affections  of  the  mild  and  gentle,  while  fierce  and  angry 
spif-'^  will  shun  them  spontaneously.  The  moderate  enjoy- 
ments of  life  are  suited  to  a  meek  temper;  therefore  they 


64  LETTER  VIII. 

will  be  assigned  to  it  without  dispute.  Is  this  no  privilege  ? 
Is  not  the  very  distinction  of  a  meek  and  quiet  spirit,  dear 
to  a  thousand  hearts  ?  Who  does  not  love  the  gentle  in  tem- 
per, and  shun  the  irascible  and  impatient?  For  my  part,  I 
hold  the  single  capacity  of  abstaining  from  anger  under  just 
provocation,  to  be  an  invaluable  privilege.  I  had  rather 
hear  it  said  of  one  whom  I  love,  that  her  temper  could  bear 
and  forbear,  amid  the  conflicts, and  troubles,  and  trials  of  life, 
than  to  hear  that  she  possessed  the  talents  of  a  de  Stael,  or 
the  wealth  of  Peru.  A  good  temper  hangs  like  a  sunny  sky 
over  the  conjugal  hemisphere.  Man  may  indeed  bask  in  its 
perennial  beams,  till  all  his  latent  affections  are  warmed  into 
life.  1  hold  this  quality  to  be  one  of  the  cardinal  requisites 
of  the  conjugal  character.  How  often  is  the  happiness  of 
married  life  completely  blighted  by  the  want  of  good  temper 
in  either  party,  but  especially  in  the  one  from  whom  forbear- 
ance and  meekness  are  most  imperiously  demanded  !  A  bad 
temper  is  such  a  fruitful  source  of  misery  to  all  connected 
with  it,  that  I  cannot  help  considering  it  as  one  of  the  great- 
est misfortunes  of  life.  Some  persons  are  happily  exempted 
by  nature  from  this  dreaded  evil.  They  are  so  constituted 
as  to  be  naturally  slow  to  wrath,  and  patient  under  provoca- 
tion. But  the  worst  natural  temper  may  be  completely 
subjugated  by  grace.  If  I  had  felt  myself  excusable  in  doubt- 
ing this  fact,  after  the  declarations  of  those  who  deem  grace 
a  universal  corrective  of  human  perverseness,  I  should  have 
been  long  since  forced  to  yield  conviction  to  it,  from  obser- 
vation of  some  persons  most  near  and  dear  to  my  heart. 
Some  of  the  most  perfect  tempers  I  have  ever  known,  have 
been  formed  by  the  influence  of  grace,  from  a  degree  of 
petulance  and  irascibility,  which  rendered  their  possessors 
almost  intolerable. 

It  is  delightful  to  the  true  Christian  to  witness  these 
triumphant  examples  of  the  power  of  religion,  ove* .  the 
degenerate  nature  of  man. 


LETTER  VIH.  65 

For  my  part,  when  I  hear  people  extol  Christianity, 
because  they  have  witnessed  some  striking  instances  of  its 
power  in  supporting  the  unfortunate,  I  cannot  help  turning 
with  warmer  feelings  of  approbation  and  applause,  to 
examples  of  its  influence  in  correcting  tempers  which  had 
once  been  the  scourge  of  their  possessors.  I  question 
whether  these  effects  of  its  divine  power  do  not  bear 
stronger  testimony  to  its  utility,  in  the  eyes  of  its  great 
Author.  And  I  question  also,  whether  the  divine  approba- 
tion does  not  flow  forth  more  fully  towards  those  who  carry 
religion  in  their  hearts  as  a  daily  antidote  against  some 
innate  venom  of  nature,  than  towards  such  as  proclaim  its 
strengthening  power  in  the  season  of  affliction.  Sorrow,  it 
is  true,  has  its  paroxysms,  when  Christianity  soothes  the 
wounded  spirit  with  irresistible  skill.  But  passion  has 
more  frequent  seasons  of  excess,  when  the  same  inward 
monitor  is  still  more  essential  to  the  safety  and  comfort  of 
the  individual.  Religion  is  great  when  it  heals  the  broken 
heart,  but  it  is  doubly  great  when  it  checks  the  progress  of 
soul-destroying  sin. 

Those  who  apply  to  Christianity  only  as  a  restraint  to 
their  sensibilities,  while  their  passions  are  allowed  to  foam 
off  their  madness  without  check,  are  but  little  aware  of  the 
powerful  agent  they  are  neglecting  to  employ  against  their 
fiercest  enemy. 

It  is  obvious  to  me,  in  many  cases,  that  the  evil  of  an 
ungovernable  temper,  is  rather  tolerated  than  resisted. 
Many  persons  require  their  friends  to  bear  with  them  under 
the  plea  that  nature  made  them  irascible ;  and  these  very 
persons  will  resort  to  religion  in  the  season  of  affliction. 
Surely  this  is  lamentably  wrong.  The  same  principle  which 
is  found  efficient  in  the  one  case  would  be  equally  so  in 
the  other.  One  would  think  that  the  pain  and  shame  of 
habitual  irruptions  of  the  temper  would  humble  the  proudest 
spirit,  and  send  it  to  him  whose  strength  is  promised  to  all 
v2 


66  LETTER  VIII. 

who  need  it.  Parents  are  often  culpably  negligent  in  suffer- 
ing their  children  to  grow  up  with  unsubdued  tempers.  A 
little  nursery  discipline  would  strangle  the  monster  in  the 
cradle,  like  the  fabled  serpents  of  Hercules.  But  in  our 
southern  country  especially,  where  the  nursery  attendants 
are  generally  ignorant  slaves,  it  is  inconceivable  what 
mischief  arises  from  maternal  neglect. 

Children  are  allowed  to  indulge  all  the  native  violence 
of  their  tempers,  without  any  restraint,  and  even  without 
admonition.  If  they  wear  a  smiling  aspect  when  brought 
out  and  exhibited  to  company,  no  inquiries  are  made 
respecting  their  conduct  behind  the  scenes. 

Indeed,  the  nurses  frequently  compound  with  their 
charges,  by  conniving  at  any  excess  in  private,  provided 
they  behave  with  decorum  in  public.  This  is  a  dreadful 
instance  of  mismanagement.  Mothers,  it  is  true,  are  forced 
sometimes  to  leave  their  children  solely  to  these  ill-qualified 
guardians ;  but  they  should  watch  with  ceaseless  vigilance 
for  every  token  of  visible  ill,  arising  from  their  superin- 
tendance,  that  they  may  apply  such  remedies  as  religion 
and  experience  suggest  to  the  case  under  their  inspection. 
It  is  a  fatal  error  to  judge  from  outward  appearances,  when 
you  have  to  deal  with  people,  whose  sole  mental  exercises 
usually  consist  in  devising  cunning  expedients  to  conceal 
their  neglect  of  duty.  The  attendants  of  our  southern  nur- 
series are  often  adepts  at  deception,  and  the  children  under 
their  charge  sometimes  witness  all  their  little  machinations. 
Dreadful  lessons  are  given  thus  indirectly,  and  fearful  con- 
sequences arise  from  unsuspected  springs  of  evil.  But 
maternal  vigilance  may  prevent  these  terrible  effects,  so  apt 
to  result  from  our  national  misfortune.  There  is,  it  is  true, 
but  a  choice  of  evils  to  persons  so  situated,  but  Christian 
prudence  suggests  many  palliatives  even  to  that  portion  of 
mischief  which  seems  inevitable. 

Virginia  mothers  should  endeavour  to  form  the  characters 


LETTER  VIII.  67 

of  their  household  attendants,  by  inculcating  christian 
morality  in  its  simplest  form.  Let  them  establish  a  few 
simple  rules,  and  enforce  them  with  firmness  and  yet  with 
gentleness.  Enjoin  it  as  a  particular  duty  in  the  nurse  to 
inform  against  the  little  offenders,  in  every  imaginable  lapse 
from  propriety.  Errors  of  temper  should  be  especially 
investigated ;  from  infancy,  children  should  be  made 
ashamed  of  indulging  passion  in  any  form,  and  penance 
should  be  steadily  inflicted  on  the  offenders* 

There  is  one  very  obvious  source  of  evil  to  be  avoided  in 
our  southern  country.  I  mean  the  habit  so  common  with  our 
ignorant  servants  of  vaunting  to  the  children  of  rich  parents 
all  the  imaginary  advantages  of  wealth  and  luxury.  I  well 
remember  hearing  from  my  coloured  nurse  such  details  of 
the  luxury  which  my  father  could  afford,  and  his  superiority 
in  wealth  to  most  of  his  neighbours,  that  my  little  heart  was 
inflated  with  vanity. 

Whenever  the  children  of  the  neighbourhood  came  to 
visit  me,  I  was  sure  to  hear  secret  remarks  upon  their  sup- 
posed deficiencies  in  gentility.  Then,  after  their  departure, 
my  self-complacency  was  gratified  by  hearing  comparisons 
to  my  advantage. 

1  was  told  how  much  more  my  father  could  afford  than 
theirs ;  any  little  symptom  of  forced  enconomy  in  their 
dress  was  pointed  out  as  a  proof  of  meanness. 

I  was  instructed  to  hold  myself  above  the  children  of  the 
poor,  because  I  was  the  daughter  of  a  very  wealthy  man, 
and  ought  not  to  let  myself  down  by  associating  with  what 
were  emphatically  called  Poor  Folks. 

Pride  of  wealth  and  pride  of  heart  were  thus  carefully 
inculcated,  and  I  remember  well  when  I  thought  poverty  a 
degradation,  as  well  as  a  misfortune.  Fortunately  for  my 
future  peace,  I  was  soon  removed  from  a  situation  so  replete 
with  evil.  But  there  are  families  among  us,  where  a  similar 
process  of  instruction  has  been  carried  on  with  more  durable 


68  LETTER  VIII. 

effects.  I  know  children,  who  have  heard  so  much  of  the 
superior  advantages  of  wealth  and  luxury  from  their  menials, 
that  they  slight  all  companions  who  do  not  exhibit  the  exte- 
rior signs  of  these  distinctions.  And,  unfortunately,  this 
evil  is  not  even  suspected  by  their  parents,  who  are  totally 
unconscious  of  the  pride  and  overbearing  insolence  exhibited 
by  their  children  when  they  associate  with  less  wealthy 
people.  Alas,  how  many  evils  surround  us  in  the  common 
walks  of  life,  of  which  the  majority  of  those  exposed  to  them 
are  utterly  unconscious  !  The  remarks  I  have  made  on  the 
subject  of  temper  were  suggested  to  me  by  a  conversation 
lately  held  with  my  friend  Emelia,  concerning  our  personal 
experience  of  these  bosom  evils.  I  found,  to  my  surprise, 
that  her  own  struggles  had  been  fierce  with  the  demons  of 
wrath  and  impatience.  But  for  her  own  positive  acknow- 
ledgement, I  should  never  have  suspected  the  nature  of  her 
inward  conflicts  ;  for  her  present  demeanour  is  that  of 
true  Christian  meekness  and  gentleness.  She  smiled  when 
I  adverted  to  her  general  reputation  for  goodness  of  temper, 
and  observed  that  her  own  experience  on  these  subjects 
might  be  a  favourable  specimen  of  the  influence  of  grace  on 
the  human  heart.  "I  was  negligently  brought  up,'7  added 
she,  "so  that  the  whole  labour  of  subjugating  the  demon 
fell  upon  myself.  I  was  left  much  to  a  nurse,  who  enjoyed 
a  great  reputation  for  skill  in  her  department,  which  she 
owed  solely  to  her  craft  in  concealing  her  defects.  She  had 
sense  enough  to  understand  what  was  required  of  her,  and 
cunning  enough  to  feign  all  the  qualities  she  wished  to  enjoy 
a  reputation  for.  I  was  naturally  excessively  passionate, 
and  she  used  often  to  provoke  me  wantonly,  after  which 
she  would  threaten  to  report  me  to  my  mother.  This, 
however,  she  never  did,  or  I  might  have  derived  some  advan- 
tage from  the  measure. 

"  She  taught  me  to  think  a  great  deal  of  the  rich,  and 
very  little  of  the  poor,  without  any  reference  to  their  intrinsic 


LETTER  Vlir.  69 

merit.  She  gave  me  false  ideas  of  generosity,  by  declaiming 
against  all  schemes  of  meritorious  thriftiness  as  mean,  while 
she  praised  actual  wastefulness  and  extravagance  as  real 
generosity.  My  mind  was  completely  bewildered  on  the 
subject  of  charity,  by  her  singular  perversions  of  its  real 
meaning.  If  my  parents  relieved  the  necessities  of  the  poor, 
she  never  failed  to  stigmatize  the  act  as  a  piece  of  extrava- 
gance, alleging,  that  she  knew  well  the  persons  were  impos- 
ters  and  cheats.  Again,  if  our  poor  neighbours  were 
admitted  to  our  table,  my  nurse  would  complain  that  my 
manners  would  be  corrupted  by  such  vulgar  associates. 
She  never  took  me  to  the  cottages  of  the  poor  in  our  rambles, 
for  fear  I  should  become  fond  of  low  company.  She 
instructed  me  to  be  haughty  and  insolent  to  my  father's 
pensioners  and  dependents,  because,  she  said,  they  would 
presume  upon  my  condescension,  to  get  more  money  out  of 
the  family.  In  short,  1  cannot  detail  all  the  perverted 
arguments  and  ingenious  sophistry  which  this  poor  unen- 
lightened creature  used  to  corrupt  my  sense  of  right. 

"  You  may  suppose,"  continued  Emelia,  "  what  dreadful 
trials  I  was  exposed  to,  when  the  cares  and  employments  of 
active  life  found  me  thus  wofully  undisciplined  in  temper, 
to  say  nothing  of  my  other  defects.  But  I  had  fortunately 
received  deep  convictions  of  religious  duty,  and  I  never 
gave  way  to  my  hasty  temper  without  bitter  self  reproach 
and  remorse  of  conscience.  I  felt  as  if  I  disgraced  the  holy 
religion  of  Christ,  by  my  frequent  excesses  of  temper.  To 
complete  my  troubles,  I  was  exposed  to  the  machinations 
of  an  evil  minded  person,  who  knew  my  defects,  and  prac- 
tised every  imaginable  expedient  to  exasperate  it.  At  that 
time,  I  thought  her  my  greatest  enemy  ;  but  since  I  under- 
stood human  nature  better,  1  have  been  thankful  to  the  Lord 
for  placing  me  precisely  in  the  situation  most  favourable  to 
the  developement  of  my  failings.  If  my  temper  had  not 
been  purposely  exasperated,  I  should  not  have  been  made 


70  LETTER  VIII. 

to  feel  all  the  poignancy  of  my  bosom  sin,  and  consequently 
should  not  have  struggled  so  prayerfully  against  it.  Often 
have  I  passed  the  greater  part  of  the  night  in  all  the  agonies 
of  penitential  remorse,  bathing  my  pillow  with  tears,  and 
supplicating  divine  aid  against  my  besetting  sin. 

"  I  never  permitted  a  single  instance  of  anger  or  impa- 
tience to  pass  unnoticed.  On  the  contrary,  I  brought  each 
one  with  bitter  self  accusations  to  the  foot  of  the  cross,  where 
alone  I  expected  pardon  or  heip  in  future  trials.  I  had  a 
near  relative  and  friend  who  possessed  the  same  natural 
defect,  and  I  strongly  recommended  to  her  the  same  pro- 
cess of  self-abasement.  But  her  religious  impressions  were 
unfortunately  not  so  deep  as  mine ;  she  sought  to  palliate 
her  fault,  while  I  steadily  viewed  mine  in  all  its  appalling 
terrors. 

"  Oh,  how  dangerous  is  that  same  habit  of  self-palliation. 
My  poor  friend  would  say,  1 1  do  not  think  my  temper  is 
so  very  bad — it  hurts  me  more  than  any  one  else;  and  if  I 
have  to  bear  it,  surely  my  friends  can.  Besides,  my  heart 
is  good — I  am  not  cruel  or  malicious — I  don't  see  that  other 
people  are  so  much  better  than  myself.  A  good  temper  is 
a  very  rare  quality,  I  think,  and  after  all,  one  soon  forgets 
what  is  said  or  done  in  anger.  It  is  better  to  be  passionate 
than  obstinate;  and  quick  tempered  people  are  always  gene- 
rous and  candid.  I  think  your  really  meek,  gentle  people 
are  too  soft  and  too  yielding ;  one  should  at  least  have  a 
proper  spirit,  and  after  all,  we  must  not  scan  too  closely 
the  precise  degree  of  any  fault.  We  are  all  bad  by  nature; 
and  people  must  take  us  as  they  find  us.  I  am  sure  I  have 
to  bear  with  others  ;  what  is  more  just  than  that  they  should 
bear  with  me.'  All  these,  and  a  thousand  more  self-de- 
lusive arguments,  were  used  to  drown  the  yearnings  of 
conscience,  until  at  length  all  desire  of  amendment  was 
banished.  My  poor  friend  has  grown  more  and  more  iras- 
cible as  years  and  infirmities  have  increased  a  malady  for 


LETTER  VIII.  71 

which  no  cure  has  ever  been  attempted.  She  still  excuses  her 
defect,  and  lays  the  blame  of  her  frequent  excesses  upon  all 
who  have  any  thing  to  do  with  her.  *  You  all  try  to  pro- 
voke me  on  purpose/  I  once  heard  her  say  5  *  I  should  be 
as  good  tempered  as  any  body  in  the  world,  if  I  was  not 
tormented  as  no  one  ever  was  before.'  " 

Alas  !  to  those  uninured  to  the  salutary  feeling,  self-accu- 
sation seems  an  evil  too  great  to  be  encountered  voluntarily. 
Blessed  be  that  religion  which  enjoins  it  as  a  duty,  and 
will  not  leave  its  true  votaries  an  excuse  for  neglecting  it. 
"  But,"  continued  Emilia,  "  my  poor  friend  had  one  mis- 
fortune from  which  I  trace  many  of  her  subsequent  trials. 
Just  as  she  was  deeply  engaged  in  investigating  Scripture 
truth,  in  all  its  various  aspects,  she  was  assailed  by  a  friend, 
who  was  terrified  lest  she  should  join  a  religious  set  which 
was  peculiarly  obnoxious  to  her,  and  came  in  pursuit  of  her 
on  purpose  to  avert  this  imaginary  evil.  From  that  moment 
her  thoughts  were  disturbed  in  their  deep  and  placid  current 
in  the  channel  of  truth,  and  called  aside,  to  debate  upon  the 
various  merits  and  demerits  of  certain  unimportant  points  of 
doctrine.  My  poor  friend  was  told  that  her  first  guides  had 
neglected  to  warn  her  of  certain  pit-falls  in  the  straight  path 
of  Scriptural  investigation.  She  was  alarmed  into  more 
caution  ;  and  from  that  time  she  thought  only  of  avoiding 
the  doctrine  of  predestination  and  election.  Her  first  con- 
victions of  sin  were  stifled  :  her  first  genuine  movements  of 
repentance  were  suspended  :  the  full  flow  of  mental  inquiry 
was  cramped,  and  distorted,  and  abridged  within  the  narrow 
sphere  of  sectarian  prejudice.  That  she  might  not  become 
bigoted  to  one  sect,  she  was  carefully  inoculated  with  bigotry 
to  others,  and  thus  closed  her  views  of  the  mighty  scope  of 
christian  faith,  which  is  co-extensive  with  eternity."  I  verily 
believe  this  to  be  one  of  the  favourite  expedients  of  Satan, 
to  prevent  people  from  understanding  Christianity  in  its 
fullest  extent.     When  he  sees  active  minds  fully  engaged 


72  LETTER  IX. 

with  the  subject  of  religion,  he  trembles  for  the  subjects  of 
his  kingdom,  and  if  he  can  contract  their  views  within  the 
narrow  pale  of  sectarian  bigotry,  he  most  successfully  pre- 
vents them  from  eluding  his  power,  by  keeping  them  in  his 
own  region  of  strife  and  controversy. 

Think  deeply  on  these  subjects,  my  dear  Mary,  and 
never  suffer  your  mind  to  be.  contracted,  by  adopting  the 
prejudices  of  any  sect.  Find  truth  for  yourself ;  you  know 
where  it  is  to  be  found,  and  establish  it  upon  the  sure  founda- 
dation  of  enlarged  and  enlightened  charity  and  love. 

Your's  ever. 


LETTER  IX. 

Exemplifications  of  Good  and  Bad  Temper. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

My  friend  Emilia  sometimes  furnishes  me  with  sketches 
of  character,  drawn  from  her  extensive  acquaintance  with 
human  nature;  and  I  cannot  do  better  than  to  transmit  them 
faithfully  to  you,  as  warnings  or  examples.  Speaking  with 
her  on  the  importance  of  good  temper,  as  an  ingredient  in 
domestic  happiness,  she  observed,  "  If  we  scrutinize  the 
private  condition  of  our  neighbours,  we  cannot  fail  to  find 
temper  at  the  bottom  of  most  of  their  misfortunes.  My 
friends  and  neighbours,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Altorf,  for  instance, 
are  striking  examples  of  this  truth.  They  have  a  rich  mea- 
sure of  heaven's  blessings — health,  and  wealth,  and  friends, 
and  fine  intelligent  children  ;  but  the  temper  of  Mr.  Altorf 
sheds  a  blight  upon  their  fairest  prospects.  I  visited  his  wife 
yesterday,  and  was  sorry  to  find  her  pale  and  thin,  with  a 
general  air  of  discomfort  and  uneasiness  about  her.     She 


LETTER  IX.  73 

received  me  cordially,  and  a  wan  smile  passed  over  her  coun- 
tenance like  a  faint  sunbeam  across  a  wintry  cloud.  To  my 
inquiries  respecting  her  health,  she  replied  with  her  usual 
benign  air  of  meekness,  that  she  was  in  her  usual  health. 
After  some  general  conversation,  we  fell  into  our  usual  style 
of  familiar  and  friendly  intercourse.  Her  voice  became  clear 
and  cheerful;  her  air  assumed  its  customary  animation;  when 
suddenly  a  cloud  gathered  over  her  brow,  and  her  tone 
gradually  lowered,  until  she  seemed  unable  to  finish  the 
sentence  she  was  speaking.  Presently  a  bell  rang  long  and 
loud,  as  if  impelled  by  an  impatient  hand ;  her  air  of  abstrac- 
tion increased,  and  she  rose  with  some  perturbation  and 
quitted  the  room.  A  moment  after,  I  heard  the  voice  of  her 
husband,  pitched  in  the  loudest  tones  of  anger  ;  one  of  the 
little  girls  ran  into  the  room  and  innocently  laid  her  head  in 
my  lap,  turning  up  her  tearful  eyes  with  a  gentle  sigh.  A 
general  silence  fell  on  the  little  group,  and  I  could  not  help 
feeling  a  shade  of  sadness  creeping  over  my  spirits.  Here, 
thought  I,  are  all  the  essential  requisites  to  happiness  com- 
pletely marred  by  a  single  circumstance :  here  might  be  the 
fullest  measure  of  earthly  bliss  but  for  one  malignant  quality 
which  blasts  the  fairest  promise  of  domestic  peace.  In  a 
few  moments  my  poor  friend  returned,  with  every  token  of 
suppressed  agitation  in  her  voice  and  manner.  She  made 
an  effort  to  resume  the  subject  of  our  discourse,  but  her 
expressions  were  incoherent,  and  her  voice  tremulous.  One 
of  the  little  boys  entered  the  room  crying  bitterly,  and 
exclaiming  that  his  father  had  boxed  his  ears  for  nothing 
but  because  he  was  standing  in  his  way  without  knowing  it. 
'Fie,  Charles,'  said  his  mother,  'you  are  a  bad  boy;  your 
father  has  just  had  a  most  provoking  accident  happened  to 
him,  and  you  should  not  take  such  an  opportunity  to  tease 
him  by  getting  in  the  way.'  Then  turning  to  me,  she  con- 
tinued, 'Mr.  Altorf  has  just  been  telling  me,  that  one  of 
his  finest  fields  of  corn  is  seriously  injured  by  a  wanton  piece 
G 


74  LETTER  IX. 

of  carelessness  in  one  of  the  servants.  How  many  troubles 
and  trials  of  temper  arise  from  this  source,  to  the  gentlemen 
of  this  southern  country."  I  acquiesced  in  this  preparatory 
observation,  for  I  saw  through  the  delicate  expedient  of  my 
friend  to  account  for  the  probable  ill  humour  of  her  husband. 
When  the  master  of  the  house  entered,  I  could  not  help 
regarding  him  scrutinizingly.  His  features  were  regular,  and 
he  would  have  been  called  a  handsome  man  by  those  who 
can  dispense  with  a  pleasant  countenance  as  an  ingredient  of 
manly  beauty.  There  was  a  d#ud  on  his  brow  which  over- 
shadowed his  eyes,  and  darkened  their  expression  as  the 
summer  cloud  obscures  the  landscape,  when  it  gathers  dark 
and  dense  athwart  the  blue  face  of  heaven.  All  his  features 
lowered  under  its  influence,  and  the  muscles  of  his  face 
seemed  to  have  lost  their  elastic  property,  by  habitual  ten- 
sion. He  smiled,  indeed,  and  took  my  hand  with  an  appear- 
ance of  cordiality ;  but  there  was  more  of  lightning  than  of 
sunshine  in  his  smile.  It  came  like  an  electric  flash  from 
his  overloaded  brow,  and  only  remained  long  enough  to 
make  its  darkness  visible.  I  could  not  help  moralizing  on 
the  nature  of  an  evil  which  sheds  so  fatal  a  blight  over  the 
fairest  prospects,  and  yet  is  so  seldom  combated  in  its  most 
vulnerable  state.  In  making  a  serious  estimate  of  the 
blessings  of  life,  few  think  a  good  temper  worthy  of  a  promi- 
nent station;  and  yet,  the  want  of  it  renders  every  other 
unavailable.  Who  can  be  tranquil  within  reach  of  a  volcano, 
which  sends  forth  threatening  smoke  habitually,  and  often 
showers  down  the  red  lava  stream  of  wrath  on  all  around, 
so  as  to  scorch  and  wither  every  tender  affection,  every 
social  sympathy  ?  The  very  children  hang  their  heads  in 
undefined  dread  at  the  approach  of  the  being  whose  pre- 
sence should  be  as  the  fostering  sunshine  to  their  souls.  Who 
that  witnesses  such  a  spectacle,  can  join  in  the  common 
place  assertion,  that  a  bad  temper  is  but  a  subordinate  evil 
in  the  catalogue  of  human  grievances  ? 


LETTER  IX.  75 

"  It  is  impossible  that  any  person,  endowed  with  the  ordi- 
nary portion  of  good  natural  feelings,  can  be  happy  in  the 
whirlwind  of  a  troubled  spirit;  the  atmosphere  of  storm 
and  tempest;  the  incessant  bursting  forth  of  the  troubled 
elements  of  passion.  The  love  of  peace  is  inherent  in  our 
nature ;  and  to  the  regenerate  heart,  peace  becomes  the  em- 
blem of  divinity,  the  token  of  a  heavenly  Father's  love. 
We  cannot  be  happy  where  its  hallowed  rights  are  infringed, 
its  sacred  prerogatives  denied.  Heaven  is  the  abode 
of  peace.  Our  God  is  emphatically  a  God  of  peace.  Dis- 
cord is  his  enemy.  Human  wrath  is  one  of  the  subjects  of 
his  immitigable  enmity." 

These  remarks  of  Emilia  struck  me  forcibly,  and  t  have 
endeavoured  to  convey  their  spirit,  if  not  their  substance,  to 
my  dear  Mary. 

On  another  occasion,  Emilia  gave  me  a  sketch  of  two 
characters  with  whom  she  is  intimately  connected. 
(t Portia  and  Flavia,  said  she,  are  both  conspicuously 
endowed  with  a  rare  assemblage  of  tastes  and  talents. 
Being  wealthy,  they  enjoyed  all  the  advantages  of  educa- 
tion afforded  by  our  country.  Their  progress  was  almost 
exactly  similar;  and  when  they  returned  home  after  having 
gone  through  the  usual  routine  of  mental  cultivation,  their 
debut  in  life  attracted  much  attention. 

For  a  time,  their  success  was  equal,  but  at  length  it 
became  obvious,  that  Portia  possessed  the  warm  affections 
of  those  who  gave  Flavia  only  their  admiration.  Yet  none 
could  tax  the  latter  with  any  positive  defect  of  manner  or 
character.  It  was  in  trifles  which  scarcely  admit  of  detail, 
that  Portia  won  upon  the  hearts  of  her  associates.  As  the 
summer  dew  refreshes  nature  in  the  absence  of  redundant 
moisture,  so  did  the  silent  influence  of  her  kindly  feelings 
pervade  the  bosoms  of  those  within  the  sphere  of  her  attrac- 
tions, reviving  the  languor  of  their  drooping  feelings. 

After  a  residence  of  some  months  in  the  same  family  with 


76  LETTER  IX. 

the  two  sisters,  I  was  conscious  of  a  warm  preference  for 
Portia,  though  I  was  still  ignorant  of  the  defects  of  Flavia's 
temper.  These  seemed  to  consist  more  in  negative  than 
in  positive  faults.  She  certainly  was  not  prompt  in  obliging 
her  friends,  even  when  the  obligation  cost  her  no  appa- 
rent sacrifice:  yet  no  one  could  accuse  her  of  being  hard  of 
heart  or  indifferent.  But  Portia  showed  not  only  a  readi- 
ness, but  an  impatience  to  gratify  her  companions.  For 
instance,  when  Flavia  refused  to  play  on  the  harp,  because, 
as  she  alleged,  she  was  not  in  the  humour  for  music,  Por- 
tia took  her  place,  and  played  the  whole  evening,  to  the 
great  gratification  of  some  ardent  admirers  of  that  instru- 
ment. When  she  retired  for  the  night,  she  showed  me  one 
of  her  fingers  which  was  swelled  and  inflamed,  so  as  to 
make  her  compliance  with  the  wishes  of  the  party  exceed- 
ingly painful.  When  thanked  for  her  obligingness,  she 
replied  with  good  humour,  "  Flavia  plays  much  better  than 
I  do,  but  she  does  not  like  to  exhibit  herself,  as  she  calls  if. 
For  mj  part,  I  play  for  no  other  motive  than  to  give  my 
friends  pleasure." 

Trifles  may  be  considered  as  safe  indications  of  the  pre- 
vailing temper  of  mind.  Flavia  was  apt  to  make  careless 
speeches,  which  sometimes  gave  offence  without  any  inten- 
tion on  her  part.  When  told  of  these  instances,  she  ex- 
pressed contempt  for  the  weakness  of  mind  which  could 
misconstrue  her  meaning,  but  showed  no  kind  of  regret  for 
the  impression  actually  made  on  her  companions.  Portia,  on 
the  contrary,  always  mild,  gentle,  and  observant  of  every 
one's  feelings,  would  exert  herself  seriously  to  remove  the 
most  trifling  misconstruction  of  her  conduct.  Flavia 
thought  herself  entitled  to  the  friendship  of  her  connexions, 
and  left  it  to  flow  spontaneously  towards  her.  Portia 
seemed  doubtful  of  her  claims  to  regard,  and  was  always 
eager  to  increase  it,  by  numberless  trifling  solicitations,  as 
they  might   be  called,  of  those  kindly  feelings  which  she 


LETTER  IX.  77 

loved  to  awaken.  By  degrees,  Flavin's  manners  became 
colder  and  less  attractive.  When  told  of  this  change,  she 
assigned  as  a  cause  for  it,  "that  her  knowledge  of  the 
world  was  increasing,  and  she  found  mankind  too  little 
attractive  to  excite  her  interest."  The  two  sisters  married, 
and  carried  their  distinctive  characteristics  with  them  into 
conjugal  life.  Portia  set  an  example  of  meekness  and  gen- 
tleness in  her  intercourse  with  a  man  of  quick  temper, 
which  soon  completely  corrected  her  husband's  fault,  and 
made  him  every  thing  she  could  desire.  He  often  speaks  of 
her  behavour  to  him  at  that  period  with  great  admiration 
and  gratitude. 

Flavia  married  a  man  of  indolent  character,  and  indif- 
ferent, careless  temper.  He  yields  himself  entirely  to  her 
control,  so  that  she  has  no  occasion  to  exert  her  spirit  in 
ruling  him.  Yet  she  seems  soured  and  discontented,  as  if 
every  thing  in  life  had  fallen  short  of  her  expectations.  Her 
countenance  has  gradually  contracted  a  cloudy  expression, 
which  gives  one  an  impression  of  inward  discontent.  Her 
children  are  intelligent  and  handsome;  yet  their  manners 
do  not  convey  the  idea  of  domestic  happiness.  There  is  a 
cloud  upon  the  social  circle,  which  chills  the  spirits,  even  of 
their  casual  guests.  No  one  can  account  for  this  circum- 
stance, for  both  the  heads  of  the  family  are  much  respected 
in  their  general  character.  Flavia  boasts  herself  to  be  a 
manager  of  the  old  school.  She  declaims  against  the  too 
great  relaxation  of  discipline  in  the  present  age,  and  whips 
her  children  and  scolds  her  servants  to  mark  her  disappro- 
bation of  modern  indulgence.  Her  favourite  theme  of  dis- 
course is  the  comparative  merits  of  the  two  systems.  She 
bears  hard  upon  all  who  advocate  the  one  she  disapproves; 
and  several  of  her  neighbours  have  waxed  cold  towards  her 
in  consequence.  She  rebrobates  Portia's  lenient  system  of 
management,  and  prognosticates  nothing  less  than  ruin  as 
the  result.  It  sometimes  happens  that  errors  appear  in  the 
g2 


78  LETTER  IX. 

executive  department  of  her  own  household,  which  give 
cause  of  malicious  triumph  to  her  neighbours.  Mrs.  A. 
went  to  condole  with  her,  on  hearing  that  the  servant  she 
had  bought  from  Mrs.  B.,  had  turned  out  badly.  But 
Flavia  assigned  all  the  blame  to  Mrs.  B.  herself,  who  had 
given  very  unmerited  praise  to  an  indifferent  servant,  that 
she  might  sell  her  advantageously. 

Flavia  is  armed  in  a  sevenfold  shield  of  self-complacency, 
and  it  is  almost  impossible  to  find  a  vulnerable  part  in  her 
panoply.  Portia,  on  the  contrary,  is  quick  sighted  to  her  own 
defects,  and  is  always  the  first  to  blame  her  own  conduct. 
She  endeavours  to  rouse  her  sister  to  a  sense  of  her  danger; 
but  Flavia  reminds  her  that  they  were  always  entirely  dif- 
ferent in  temper  and  character,  and  that  Portia  cannot  form 
a  proper  estimate  of  her  feelings,  with  much  of  the  other 
jargon  common  to  those  who  choose  to  be  wrong. 

Portia's  family  circle  is  a  perfect  specimen  of  domestic 
felicity.  It  is  easy  to  discern  at  the  first  glance,  that  the 
husband  and  wife  wholly  approve,  and  tenderly  love  each 
other.  The  children,  too,  bear  their  part,  from  the  oldest  to 
the  present  tenant  of  the  cradle,  in  the  well  performed  con- 
cert of  harmonized  hearts  and  minds.  It  is  refreshing  to  all 
one's  best  feelings  to  make  one  of  that  charming  group, 
even  for  a  day. 

In  Flavians  family,  on  the  other  hand,  though  every  thing 
is  arranged  with  elegant  hospitality,  and  there  is  a  show  of 
wealth  just  restrained  by  rational  economy,  you  involuntarily 
droop  and  become  languid,  under  the  influence  of  the  torpor 
of  feeling  which  reigns  around.  All  is  dull,  and  cold,  and 
spiritless.  Conversation  is  rapid,  and  mirth,  if  attempted, 
soon  darkens  into  solemnity.  Flavia  seems  to  approve  of 
nobody;  and  her  affections  are  still  more  contracted  than 
when  in  early  youth.  Yet  she  talks  of  the  advantages  of 
her  situation,  and  pities  persons  who  are  much  happier  than 
herself,  for  being  without  them.      She  thinks    her    own 


LETTER  IX.  79 

state  far  more  desirable  than  Portia's,  and  even  affects  to 
believe,  that  Portia  herself  is  secretly  touched  with  envy 
at  her  superior  advantages.  She  pities  her  for  having  a 
high  spirited  husband,  and  wonders  how  she  can  endure  his 
temper.  u  I  should  die  under  such  thraldom  as  poor  Portia 
has  to  endure,"  she  will  say.  "  But,  to  be  sure,  she  had 
always  a  poor  spirit  of  her  own  She  thinks,  because  I 
have  some  independence  of  character,  that  I  am  ill-tempered, 
and  she  calls  me  obstinate  because  I  have  some  perse- 
verance !" 

Portia  and  Flavia,  each  undertook  a  Sabbath  school,  and 
both  met  with  opposition  from  the  ignorance  of  their  coun- 
try neighbours.  Portia  persisted  in  winning  over  her  oppo- 
nents with  gentle  representations  of  the  utility  of  her  plan. 
Flavia  blamed  her  for  condescending  to  use  persuasion  with 
such  people.  She  carried  her  point  bravely,  by  bearing 
down  heropposers;  and  having  established  the  school  to 
show  that  she  would  not  be  outdone,  she  quietly  relinquished 
the  scheme. 

Portia,  having  succeeded  in  convincing  her  neighbours  of 
the  expediency  of  her  plan,  continued  to  maintain  the  insti- 
tution, with  great  trouble  to  herself.  But  she  was  rewarded 
by  becoming  the  benefactress  of  the  poor  in  her  neighbour- 
hood, who  to  this  day  bless  God  for  having  cast  her  lot 
among  them. 

The  two  sisters  are  both  professors  of  religion,  and  the 
characteristics  which  distinguished  them  as  women  of  the 
world,  have  remained  with  them  under  the  most  important 
of  all  changes.  Portia's  meekness  is  truly  evangelical. 
Flavia's  roughness  of  manner  is  mistaken  for  Christian  can- 
dour. "  Oh,  I  must  speak  truth  to  every  one.  It  is  a  Chris- 
tian duty,"  says  she.  Then  her  harsh  temper  leads  her  to 
rebuke  with  petulence  and  severity.  Portia  represents  to  her 
that  she  does  discredit  to  the  cause  of  religion  by  her 
violence. 


§0  LETTER  IX. 

What !  said  she,  must  I  be  as  faint  hearted  and  cowardly 
as  you  are,  in  rebuking  sin  ?  Does  not  the  Scripture  say, 
"  be  ye  angry  and  sin  not  I9' 

But,  said  Portia,!  understand  the  Apostle  to  mean  that  as 
a  prohibition  to  anger,  as  if  he  had  said,  Do  not  ye  be  angry 
and  sin;  or  rather,  be  not  you  angry  and  sin. 

That  is  not  my  interpretation,  said  Flavia.  Anger  is 
natural,  and  as  we  cannot  help  it,  we  must  make  a  scriptu- 
ral use  of  it,  and  rebuke  sinners  with  spirit.  We  cannot 
change  our  temperament.  What  nature  made  it,  we  must 
be  content  to  leave  it. 

What !  said  Portia.  If  grace  can  change  the  heart,  can- 
not it  change  the  temper?  Are  not  we  especially  enjoined 
to  be  slow  to  wrath,  because  the  wrath  of  man  worketh  not 
the  righteousness  of  God  ?  Are  we  not  required  to  be  like ! 
minded  with  Christ ;  who,  when  he  was  reviled,  reviled  not 
again?  Are  we  not  to  learn  of  Him  who  was  meek  and 
lowly  of  heart?  Is  not  the  wisdom  from  above  first  pure, 
and  then  peaceable,  gentle,  and  easy  to  be  entreated,  full  of 
mercy  and  good  works?  Is  not  the  fruit  of  righteousness 
sown  in  peace,  to  them  that  make  peace?  Are  there  not 
awful  denunciations  against  the  lovers  of  wrath  and  strife  ? 
They  are  told  in  plain  terms,  that  they  shall  not  enter  the 
kingdom  of  God.  In  short,  are  not  gentleness  and  meek- 
ness indispensable  requisites  of  the  Christian  character? 
Were  they  not  eminently  exhibited  by  the  author  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  are  they  not  imperatively  inculcated  in  every 
part  of  the  holy  volume?  Oh?  my  dear  Flavia,  lay  not  the 
flattering  unction  to  your  soul,  that  because  your  temper  is 
not  gentle  by  nature,  you  are  permitted  to  indulge  unchris- 
tian feelings.  Grace  will  give  you  that  genileness  which 
nature  denied  you.  But  oh,  do  not  dishonour  God  by  im- 
puting to  his  holy  religion  the  inconsistency  of  prohibiting 
some  things  imperatively,  and  then  sanctioning  their  prac- 
tice in  professors  of  Christianity.     No,  what  he  has  forbid- 


LETTER  X.  81 

den  to  all,  he  will  not  suffer  in  one.     What  he  requires 
generally,  he  will  exact  individually. 

So  much  for  Emilia's  representations  of  character.  Reflect 
on  these  things,  dear  Mary, 

And  believe  me  ever,  &c. 


LETTER  X. 

False  Sensibility  exemplified. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

I  have  indeavoured  to  guard  you  against  the  evils  of  tem- 
per, and  I  will  now  say  something  on  the  subject  of  inordi- 
nate sensibility.  I  do  not  mean  that  sickly  exuberance  of 
self-love,  which  I  once  warned  you  against ;  but  the  excess 
of  sincere  and  honest  feeling.  Women  are  proverbially  soft 
hearted:  nature,  education,  and  the  customs  of  society, 
combine  to  foster  their  sensibilities.  Their  state  of  depen- 
dence on  man,  makes  them  peculiarly  sensitive;  for,  having 
no  security  but  his  tenderness  against  the  many  ills  of  life, 
if  that  resource  should  fail,  they  are  left  desolate.  Yet 
believe  me,  in  many  instances,  the  patience  and  forbearance 
of  the  stronger  sex,  are  too  severely  tested  by  the  ill  govern- 
ed tenderness  of  woman.  I  have  observed  in  females,  an 
unreasonable  tenacity  of  opinion,  in  trifles  beneath  the 
serious  consideration  of  rational  minds.  They  require  a 
thousand  petty  observances,  which  weary  and  disgust  their 
lofty  minded  superiors.  It  is  certainly  bad  policy  to  persist 
in  these  requisitions.  Whatever  sacrifices  man  may  choose 
to  make  to  his  female  companion,  should  be  graciously 
received ;  but  if  he  manifests  unwillingness  to  give  up  what 
she,  perchance,  most  earnestly  desires,  let  her  take  a  lesson 
in  self-denial,  and  submissively  resign  it.     She  will  find  her 


82  LETTER    X. 

happiness  promoted  in  the  end,  by  any  resignation  of  self- 
will  she  may  have  strength  to  put  in  practice.  Much  of  the 
misery  that  abounds  in  conjugal  life,  might  be  spared  through 
the  observance  of  this  rule.  But  women,  in  general,  seem 
more  tenacious  of  their  rights,  in  proportion  to  the  requisite 
abridgment  of  them.  They  hold  fast  that  which  they  should 
surrender  without  a  murmur.  There  is  but  one  rule  for 
conjugal  obedience,  and  that  is,  that  the  woman  should  obey 
all  such  requisitions  as  are  consistent  with  her  higher  duties. 
If  she  is  unfortunately  yoked  unequally  with  an  unbeliever, 
she  must  obey  God  first,  and  her  husband  afterwards.  But 
this  is  a  situation,  in  which  no  considerate  Christian  female 
will  ever  voluntarily  place  herself.  A  woman  who  loves 
God,  and  desires  to  serve  him,  will  never  risk  uniting  herself 
with  one  who  is  still  in  the  darkness  of  unbelief.  She  has 
no  right  to  expect  a  blessing  on  any  prayers  she  might  intend 
to  put  up  for  her  partner,  for  God  has  only  promised  his 
blessing  to  those  who  move  in  the  prescribed  path  of  duty.* 
Who  could  venture  to  say  to  God — "  Lord,  I  have  disobeyed 
thy  commands,  nevertheless,  I  expect  a  blessing  upon  the 
forbidden  step  I  have  taken.  I  have  married  a  man  who 
denies  the  Saviour  who  died  for  him;  he  treats  with  coldness 
or  contempt  my  religious  profession.  He  considers  my  dear- 
est hope  as  a  wild  chimera,  and  the  object  of  my  dearest 
affections  as  a  fabled  being  :  and  yet  I  expect  to  be  happy 
with  him;  to  be  able  to  reconcile  my  duty  to  him,  with  my 
duty  to  you,  so  that  neither  will  clash  with  the  other  [9}     Is 


*  Different  expositions  of  2  Cor.  vi.  14,  are  given  by  commentators, 
but  it  cannot  be  shown  that  the  Apostle  had  any  special  reference  to 
the  subject  otf  marriage.  It  seems  to  be  a  general  caution  against  all 
avoidable  intimacies  with  unbelievers,  by  which  believers  might  be 
enticed  from  the  purity  of  their  principles,  or  their  lives,  into  a  confor- 
mity with  the  world.  But  if  this  should  be  a  general  maxim  of 
conduct,  how  forcibly  does  it  apply  to  that  most  intimate  of  connex* 
ions,  tne  marriage  union,  P. 


LETTER  X.  83 

not  this  strange  reasoning  ?  But  I  forewarn  you,  my  dear 
girl,  that  the  hope  of  being  happy  in  such  an  union  is  vain. 

Nay I  dare  not  even  promise  you  security  in  such  a  state ! 

How  can  the  love  which  is  felt  for  an  infidel,  be  productive 
of  happiness  to  a  vital  Christian  ?  Can  a  wife  bear  to  think 
of  the  probable  doom  of  the  man  she  loves  ?  can  she  love 
him  truly,  and  endure  the  thought  of  an  endless  separation 
from  him  ? — Surely  not.  There  are  impediments  in  this 
bad  world  to  conjugal  felicity,  without  this  most  insur- 
mountable one.  The  very  acuteness  of  sensibility  which 
characterizes  women,  operates  to  the  destruction  of  their 
happiness,  in  such  a  case. 

The  advice  which  I  now  give  you,  dear  Mary,  to  curb 
even  your  amiable  feelings,  will  tend  to  prepare  you  for  hap- 
piness   in  the  married  state.     When    I  think  how    much 
misery  is  occasioned  by  the  ungoverned  sensibility  of  women, 
I  feel  inconceivable  anxiety  to  warn  you  on  this  head.     Ex- 
cess of  all  kinds  is  to  be  avoided,  and  we  may  love  those 
with  whom  we  are  connected  in  this  life  idolatrously,  and 
thus  lay  ourselves  open  to  the  awful  penalty  of  God's  viola- 
ted law.     If  we  love  God  supremely,  there  is  no  fear  of  our 
exceeding  in  ihe  measure  of  our  subordinate  affections;  yet, 
trust  me,  my  dear  girl,  there  is  more  pain  than  pleasure  in 
inordinate  attachments  to  our  kindred  dust.     Women  are 
most  prone  to  commence  conjugal  life, by  expecting  the  same 
devoted  attention  from  the  husband,  that  they  received  from 
the  lover.  This  expectation  will  almost  always  be  disappoint- 
ed ;  for  when  the  cares  and  avocations  of  life  press    hard 
upon  the  head  of  a  family,  he  has  not  that  time  for  cultivating 
his  tender  feelings,  that  his  unoccupied  hours  of  youth  affor- 
ded.    It  is  a  fatal  error,  for  a  woman  to  suffer  herself  to  be 
soured  by  perceiving  this  inevitable  change.     She  had  far 
better  lay  up  firmer  materials  for  domestic  happiness,  than 
those  gathered  from  the  romance  of  a  youthful  attachment. 
I  have  known  wives  make  themselves  completely  miserable, 


84  LETTER  X. 

because  iheir  husbands  were  wanting  in  some  little  trivial 
attention,  which  they  had  been  accustomed  to  pay  the  mis- 
tress or  the  bride.  That  morbid  sensibility,  which  watches 
every  turn  of  the  eye,  and  every  tone  of  the  voice,  lest  per- 
chance they  should  indicate  some  change  of  feeling,  is  the 
scourge  of  both  parties  in  married  life.  True  affection  is  a 
dignified  and  exalted  feeling,  that  needs  not  such  dainty 
aliment  to  maintain  it.  It  is  supplied  by  a  perennial  flow 
of  vital  kindness,  springing  from  the  heart,  and  sanctioned 
by  the  understanding.  It  looks  not  to  trifles  as  signs  of  its 
existence,  for  it  pervades  every  impulse,  and  reigns  in  every 
action.  Yet  this  deep  and  abiding  love,  may  exist  without 
those  exterior  observances,  which  mark  rather  the  requisi- 
tions of  the  wife,  than  the  spontaneous  tenderness  of  the 
husband.  They  may  be  exacted  until  they  become  mechan- 
ical and  unmeaning,  if  not  irksome  and  disagreeable.  Why 
should  it  be  said  of  women,  that  they  are  always  unreason- 
able in  their  exactions  of  attention  and  respect  from  their 
husbands?  Does  not  this  evil  sometimes  arise  from  vanity, 
which  is  gratified  by  exhibiting  its  power,  or  from  a  desire 
of  being  couspicuous  amongst  married  people  less  tenacious 
of  these  observances  ?  I  once  walked  in  the  dark  after  a 
married  couple,  who  little  dreamt  they  had  an  auditor,  and 
I  heard  the  wife  reproach  her  husband  vehemently,  for  his 
want  of  attention  toward  her  during  the  evening  :  "  You 
neither  brought  me  refreshments,  nor  turned  over  the  leaves 
of  my  music  book,  nor  asked  me  if  my  headach  bad  gone  off, 
during  the  party,"  said  she.  "Indeed,  my  dear,"  said  the 
husband,  "  you  were  surrounded  by  so  many  who  paid  you 
these  attentions,  that  I  thought  my  presence  would  be  super- 
fluous. As  for  your  headach,  I  thought  of  that,  I  assure 
you,  but  you  looked  so  blooming  and  handsome,  that  I  was 
in  hopes  you  could  not  be  suffering  bodily  pain."  "  Per- 
haps," said  she,  quickly,  "  you  thought  me  deceitful,  and  did 
not  believe  in  the  reality  of  my  headach  ?"    "  O,  my  dear  ! 


LETTER  X.  85 

how  can  you  believe  me  capable  of  such  odious  suspicion, — 
did  I  ever  give  you  reason  to  doubt  my  perfect  reliance  on 
your  word  ?"  "  I  don't  know,"  said  she,  peevishly  ;  *  you 
are  strangely  altered,  I  think ;  at  least  I  am  not  as  happy, 
or  as  secure  of  your  affections,  as  I  used  to  be."  "  O  dear," 
exclaimed  the  husband,  "  this  is  both  unkind  and  unreason- 
able." The  wife  here  burst  into  tears.  "  I  knew,"  sobbed 
she,  "  that  my  time  of  misery  would  soon  come,  but  I  little 
thought,  when  I  came  out  this  evening,  of  hearing  such  bit- 
ter reproaches!"  "Hush,  hush!  my  dear  wife,  I  hear 
footsteps  j  don't  let  us  make  ourselves  ridiculous."  This 
made  matters  worse.  The  wife  wept  more  bitterly,  and  said 
that  her  sensibility  was  scorned,  and  her  affection  slighted. 
How  far  the  scene  proceeded,  I  know  not,  as  my  way  led 
me  in  a  different  direction.  But  I  frequently  saw  this  cou- 
ple, and  all  my  observations  tended  to  convince  me,  that  the 
lady  was  destroying  her  own  happiness. 

I  accidentally  met  her  one  day  in  a  store,  with  a  radiant 
countenance,  looking  over  some  newly  imported  goods.  She 
had  just  selected  a  silk,  and  had  the  dress  pattern  cut  off, 
when  her  husband  entered.  She  went  up  to  him,  playfully, 
and  said,  "  Come  now,  admire  my  taste, — 'look  here,"  point- 
ing to  a  silk  that  had  just  been  rejected  as  frightfully  unbe- 
coming, "  I  want  to  try  your  taste,  and  see  if  it  is  not 
instinctively  similar  to  mine.  An't  this  beautiful ;  and  an't 
this  ugly  ?"  pointing  to  her  own  choice  exultingly.  The 
poor  man  happened  to  be  totally  without  taste,  but  he  made 
all  possible  haste  to  agree  with  her,  not  being  aware  of  her 
stratagem.  Her  brow  clouded  instantly.  "  What !"  said 
she,  "  are  you  serious  ? — can  you  think  this  frightful  thing 
handsome  in  reality  ?"  "  My  dear,  did  you  not  tell  me  you 
admired  it?"  Yes;  but  I  concluded  of  course  you  would 
understand  my  jest :  I  wanted  to  exhibit  your  taste  to  these 
ladies."  "  Then,  my  dear,  you  wanted  to  exhibit  what  I 
have  not,  and  never  shall  have."  "Well,"  said  she,  "I 
H 


S6  LETTER  X. 

had  hoped  you  would  learn  of  me  such  trifles  as  these;  but 
I  see  you  disdain  the  idea  of  being  taught  by  your  wife  :  true 
man !  after  all  my  hopes  that  you  were  unlike  the  rest  of 
your  sex." 

I  witnessed  many  more  instances  of  a  similar  nature, 
which  accounted  for  the  change  that  four  fleeting  years  made 
in  both  husband  and  wife.  At  the  end  of  that  time  theyjeft 
our  city,  and  I  know  not  what  has  become  of  them.  I  was 
invited,  among  other  friends,  to  spend  an  evening  with  them 
before  their  departure,  and  I  cannot  give  you  a  better  lesson 
on  the  subject  of  ill  governed  sensibility,  than  by  narrating 
circumstantially  the  events  of  the  evening. 

I  was  one  of  the  first  guests  who  arrived,  and  as  I  entered 
the  passage,  I  heard  voices  pretty  loud  in  a  side  room.  "  You 
must  have  your  own  way,  to  be  sure,  as  master  of  the  house 
and  of  me,"  said  the  wife,  "  but  you  violate  all  my  wishes, 
and  derange  all  my  plans,  by  your  arbitrary  proceedings." 
"  My  dear  Ester,"  said  a  soothing  voice, "  I  am  not  the 
tyrant  you  represent.  If  I  had  a  reasonable  wife,  I  should 
be  a  complaisant  husband."  "  Ay,  that  is  always  your  way, 
— you  lay  your  own  faults  upon  me,  and  represent  me  as  a 
virago;  when  every  body  knows  I  was  a  remarkable  sweet 
tempered  girl."  ((  I  know  you  were,  Ester;  that  was  one 
of  your  greatest  attractions  to  me  ;  for  I  always  thought  a 
good  temper  an  indispensable  requisite  in  married  life  :  but 
— I  shall  offend  you  if  I  go  on."  "  Never  mind,  speak  sir," 
said  a  whining  voice — u  I  give  you  leave."  "  Well,  my 
dear  wife,  I  will  speak,  with  the  hope  of  opening  your  eyes 
at  last  to  your  greatest  fault,  and  my  greatest  misfortune. 
Your  morbid  sensibility  is  almost  as  great  a  scourge  to  me, 
as  a  bad  temper  could  be.  You  are  perpetually  doubting 
my  affection;  and  if  you  don't  take  care,  you  will  yourself 
fulfil  the  prophecy  you  have  so  often  uttered,  that  I  shall 
cease  to  love  you  altogether.  Pray  restrain  these  unreason- 
able feelings.     Confide  in  my  regard,  instead  of  looking  to 


LETTER  X.  87 

every  transient  occurrence  for  proof  of  its  sincerity  ;  believe 
my  assertion,  and  you  will  be  happy.  It  seems  to  me,  that 
every  trifle  that  has  occurred  since  our  marriage,  has  been 
made  to  bear  testimony  against  me;  while  the  important 
steps  I  have  taken  to  promote  your  happiness,  has  been 
omitted  in  the  calculation.  To  go  no  farther  back  than  this 
night,  you  are  reproaching  me  for  leaving  one  of  your  ser- 
vants behind,  who  would  be  made  miserable  by  a  removal  i 
when  I  am  taking  the  most  important  step  of  my  life,  solely 
to  please  you.  J  am  quitting  my  own  family,  to  carry  you 
among  yours,  because  I  cannot  bear  to  hear  you  pine  after 
your  mother  and  sisters  so  much.  I  don't  know  that  my 
interest — the  interest  of  my  wife  and  children,  may  not  suf- 
fer by  this  step."  "  Oh  !  say  no  more,  I  entreat,"  said  she. 
"It  is  not  too  late  to  stop  :  we  will  not  remove.  I  insist 
on  it.  Never  can  I  bear  the  reproach  of  having  ruined  my 
family,  by  my  ungoverned  sensibilities.  O,  that  my  heart 
were  ossified — that  I  were  incapable  of  feeling  !  But  I  shall 
soon  become  callous.  Yes  !  I  feel  it.  I  am  no  longer  so 
sensitive  as  I  was  :  incessant  reproaches  must  have  their 
destined — their  desired  effect."  Here  the  conversation  was 
interrupted,  by  a  servant's  giving  notice  of  my  arrival. 

The  husband  soon  entered,  and  greeted  me  cordially. 
He  was  pale  and  thin,  and  had  a  worried,  harassed  look ; 
as  if  care  had  borne  heavily  on  his  young  heart.  Yet  he 
was  prosperous  in  his  circumstances,  and  possessed  a  nume- 
rous circle  of  respectable  friends  and  connexions.  He  was 
naturally  a  healthy,  robust  man,  with  a  cheerful,  buoyant 
temper.  He  led  by  the  hand  his  eldest  child,  a  delicate 
sickly-looking  boy,  who  has  been  overnursed  by  his  over- 
fond  mother,  till  he  looks  like  a  pining  exotic.  I  am  told 
she  never  suffered  the  wind  of  heaven  to  breathe  on  him, 
and  her  husband  had  been  forced,  against  his  better  judg- 
ment, to  acquiesce  in  her  injudicious  system  of  management 
Presently,  the  wife  herself  appeared,  languid  and  melan- 


88  LETTER  XI. 

choly,  with  tokens  of  suppressed  emotion,  visible  to  my 
scrutinizing  glance.  She  had  scarcely  returned  my  saluta- 
tion, when  she  exclaimed  in  alarm,  on  seeing  her  son  sitting 
in  an  open  door,  "Oh,  my  darling  boy,  you  will  catch  your 
death  in  that  draught  of  air.  How  could  you  let  him  sit 
there,  my  dear? — but  you  never  think  of  these  things.  I'm 
sure  the  poor  child  will  have  the  croup  to-night" — so  say- 
ing, she  hurried  him  off:  his  father  sighed  deeply,  and  more 
company  coming  in,  the  conversation  became  general. 

As  I  have  fallen  upon  the  plan  of  exemplifying  my  pre- 
cepts by  sketches  of  character,  I  will  begin  another  letter 
with  a  contrast  to  this  melancholy  picture.  Adieu  for  the 
present,  my  dear  girl  3  if  I  can  save  you  from  the  foibles  of 
your  sex,  and  yet  preserve  their  distinguished  good  quali- 
ties in  your  character,  I  shall  be  most  happy. 

Ever  your  sincere  friend. 


LETTER  XI. 

Picture  of  Domestic  Happiness. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arundel  have  passed  twenty  years  in  happy 
wedlock,  and  it  is  quite  a  privilege  to  see  them  in  their  own 
home,  surrounded  by  their  numerous  offspring.  I  spent  a 
week  with  them,  a  short  time  since,  and  came  home  with 
my  thoughts  rich  in  images  of  beauty  and  virtue.  Mrs.  A. 
is  still  a  lovely  woman;  for  happiness  seems  to  have 
repaired  or  prevented  the  ravages  of  time  in  her  person. 
Her  husband's  eyes  involuntarily  follow  her,  as  she  flits 
about  her  household  duties  with  a  grace  that  would  do 
honour  to  juvenile  years.     It  is  delightful  to  hear  this  cou- 


LETTER  XI.  89 

pie  speak  of  each  other,  and  give  up  all  the  merit  of  their 
happiness  to  the  one  whom  each  delights  to  honour. 

"  They  say  conjugal  happiness  is  rare,"  said  the  hus- 
band ;  "  but  I  see  no  reason  why  it  should  be.  If  we  only 
follow  common  sense,  and  the  Christian  rule  of  doing  as  we 
would  be  done  by,  there  is  no  doubt  but  happiness  would  be 
the  result.  We  are  by  nature  social  beings,  and  the  laws  oi 
God  encourage  us  to  seek  happiness  in  social  connexions ; 
and  yet  there  are  dry,  steril,  withered  old  bachelors,  that 
will  tell  you,  they  dared  not  marry  for  fear  of  being  misera- 
ble for  life.  Now  for  my  part,  the  idea  of  misery  most 
familiar  to  me,  is  exemplified  in  these  very  old  bachelors.. 
They  have  no  one  to  sooth  the  infirmities  of  declining  years., 
or  comfort  nature  in  her  most  comfortless  state.  They 
leave  none  behind  to  remember  them,  and  talk  with  affec- 
tionate interest  of  their  enduring  qualities.  And  as  for  con- 
jugal happiness  being  a  difficult  matter,  why  my  wife  and  I 
will  tell  you  how  we  managed  the  thing !  Come,  Helen,  let 
us  take  a  retrospect  of  our  early  life,  and  tell  our  friend  the 
secret  of  conjugal  felicity."  His  Helen  smiled  sweetly,  and 
took  her  seat  beside  him. 

"  We  began,"  said  she,  "  by  loving  one  another  more 
than  we  loved  ourselves.  This  made  it  easier  to  give  up, 
than  to  persist  in  self-will.  I  well  remember  some  of  our 
difficulties,  however;  and  when  I  see  thousands  wrecked  on 
the  same  shoals,  I  always  wish  I  could  warn  them  off,  by 
stating  my  own  experience.  Mr.  Arundel  was  a  politician 
when  I  married  him,  and  I  thought  it  a  bitter  thing,  to  see 
him  so  taken  up  with  what  I  could  not  understand.  Often 
have  I  been  ready  to  complain,  when  he  would  come  with 
his  head  full  of  grave,  statesman-like  plans,  instead  of  some- 
thing pleasant  and  companionable.  He  would  sit  for  hours 
in  my  presence,  as  if  he  did  not  see  me,  with  his  mind 
brooding  over  abstract  subjects.  This  required  a  little 
exertion  of  fortitude  on  my  part.  Here,  he  has  taken  me 
h2 


90  LETTER  XI. 

from  my  friends,  I  would  say,  and  yet  I  have  none  of  his 
society.  I  am  moped  to  death — what  shall  I  do?  Must  I 
complain,  and  reproach  him  ?  O  no.  My  heart  could  not 
frame  a  reproach.  I  began  to  think  that  my  duty  required 
me  to  submit  to  his  will.  That  his  reveries  might  be 
important  to  other  people,  if  not  to  me.  O,  how  my  heart 
beat  with  pleasure,  when  I  heard  him  applauded  vehemently 
for  a  speech,  made  on  the  very  subject  which  had  occupied 
his  mind  so  long.  If  I  had  interrupted  him  with  my  selfish- 
ness, now  thought  I,  he  never  would  have  been  able  to 
concentrate  his  attention  so  as  to  excel."  "  But  you  forget, 
.Helen,"  interrupted  the  husband,  "  how  much  you  aided 
me  in  my  labours,  by  indulging  my  thoughtful  humours,  and 
keeping  every  thing  out  of  my  way,  that  could  possibly  give 
me  disturbance  5  how  you  brought  refreshments  to  the  door 
of  my  study,  and  knocked  gently  for  admittance,  and 
always  retreated  as  soon  as  I  had  partaken  of  your  nice 
cake  and  cordial.  It  used  to  cost  me  a  pretty  hard  struggle 
to  let  you  go  off,  I  assure  you.  If  you  had  made  the  slightest 
movement  like  desiring  to  stay,  I  should  have  kept  you,  and 
then  my  mind  would  have  been  taken  from  the  subject  I  was 
studying."  "  Ah  !"  said  Helen,  "  I  remember  shedding 
some  foolish  tears  one  day,  because  I  thought  you  dismissed 
me  coldly.  But  I  went  into  my  room,  and  prayed  that  God 
would  give  me  strength  to  bear  my  disappointment,  if  I  was 
indeed  fated  to  have  an  indifferent  husband."  "  And  I  too 
was  a  little  miffed,"  said  he,  u  to  think  that  you  should 
never  offer  to  stay  with  me.  So  we  were  mutually  under- 
going the  same  self-inflicted  trials."  u  I  remember,"  said 
Helen,  "  the  first  large  party  we  went  to,  you  were  so  much 
occupied  with  politics,  that  you  did  not  once  approach  me, 
or  appear  conscious  of  my  presence.  A  lady,  famous  for 
her  spirit  of  malicious  observation,  whispered  loud  enough 
for  rae  to  hear  her,  that  you  were  the  most  indifferent  young 
married  man  she  had  ever  seen,  and  that  she  was  sure  you 


LETTER  XI.  91 

did  not  care  a  button  for  your  wife ;  shortly  after  the  party 
dispersed,  and  you  tucked  me  coldly  under  your  arm,  and 
carried  me  off,  without  speaking  one  word  during  our  walk 
home.  As  soon  as  we  arrived,  I  left  you,  after  bringing  you 
your  usual  evening  refreshment, — you  called  with  an  absent 
air  for  a  whole  candle,  as  you- intended  to  sit  up  all  night. 
I  commanded  myself  as  well/ as  I  Could,  and  bade  you  good 
night  with  an  unsteady  vo^e.^iYou.  did  not  reply,  and  I 
went  to  bed  wondering  if  all  husbands  were  as  indifferent  as 
mine."  "  You  were  a  dear  good  creature,"  exclaimed  her 
husband,  "  to  bear  with  me  as  you  did,  and  1  hope  you  have 
since  had  your  reward."  "  O  yes,  I  have  indeed  ! — I  have 
wondered  oftentimes  since,  whether  any  other  women  in  the 
world  had  such  attentive  husbands  as  mine.  But  one  of  my 
greatest  trials  was,  when  I  discovered  how  much  we  differed 
about  the  management  of  our  children.  I  was  for  bringing 
them  up  very  delicately,  and  you  justly  determined  that 
their  constitutions  should  be  casehardened.  Nothing  but 
the  strongest  sense  of  duty  could  have  made  me  submit  to 
this  terrible  act  of  self-denial.  It  seemed  to  me  little  less 
than  murder,  to  subject  a  delicate  infant  to  the  keen  air  of 
the  morning.  I  have  often  cried  in  secret,  when  you  gave 
directions  for  the  baby  to  be  carried  out  to  walk."  "  But, 
my  dear  Helen,  though  I  was  somewhat  despotic  in  this, 
yet  I  had  reason  on  my  side  clearly.  I  was  sorry  for  the 
pain  I  gave  you,  but  it  was  to  save  you  from  a  greater  suf- 
fering, that  I  determined,  by  resolute  conduct,  to  rescue  our 
dear  children  from  the  inevitable  consequences  of  your  inju- 
dicious fondness.  I  always  looked  forward,  too,  to  the 
time  when  you  would  agree  perfectly  with  me  on  this  sub- 
ject; being  confident  that  your  good  sense  would  finally 
prevail  over  your  excessive  fondness,  so  as  to  dictate  proper 
methods  of  management.  If  you  had  been  one  of  those 
silly  women,  who  never  give  up  an  idea  because  it  is  their 
own,  I  might  have  despaired  of  you;  but  you  never  were 


92  LETTER  XI. 

self-willed.  Your  mistake  was  a  natural  one  for  a  young 
mother,  and  I  felt  assured  it  would  soon  be  set  right." 
"Yes.  my  dear,"  said  the  happy  wife,  "  and  I  owe  you 
infinite  obligations  for  overruling  me  in  this  matter.  I  have 
a  sister  who  fell  into  precisely  the  same  error  of  manage- 
ment 5  unfortunately,  her  husband  left  her  to  direct,  and 
their  children  one  half  died  in  infancy,  while  the  other  half 
can  scarcely  be  said  to  live  in  manhood,  their  constitutions 
are  so  slight." 

I  could  not  help  mentioning  to  Mrs.  Arundel,  as  she  said 
this,  the  debate  I  had  heard  between  the  husband  and  wife 
mentioned  in  my  last  letter.  "  Yes,"  said  she,  "  I  know 
the  lady  well.  She  is  destroying  her  own  peace,  and  that 
of  Jier  husband,  by  her  unreasonable  sensibility.  When 
once  a  woman  falls  into  the  habit  of  exacting  petty  obser- 
vances from  her  husband,  she  becomes  as  much  his  tyrant, 
as  if  she  ruled  in  all  things.  It  has  been  said,  that  single 
drops  of  water  falling  in  regular  succession  on  the  head, 
occasion  unindurable  torment.  So  will  these  petty  acts  of 
tyranny,  if  regularly  practised,  destroy  the  peace  of  any 
man.  The  constant  puling  and  wailing  of  discontent, 
always  stating  some  trifling  cause  of  complaint,  is  a  misery 
in  itself.  For  a  man  to  live  always  under  a  cloudy  counte- 
nance, is  as  bad  as  to  be  subjected  to  the  vapour  and  smoke 
of  London  itself.  Women  do  certainly  possess  the  power 
of  tormenting  their  partners,  by  such  absurd  conduct,  but 
at  the  same  time  they  trifle  away  their  own  happiness. 
Married  people  must  either  be  happy  or  miserable  together. 
When  one  of  your  limbs  is  in  violent  pain,  the  rest  of  the 
body  suffers  by  sympathy.  So  it  is  in  the  mystic  union  of 
marriage.  If  one  party  is  unhappy,  the  suffering  is  cast 
upon  the  other  also,  in  a  greater  or  less  degree,  in  propor- 
tion to  the  degree  of  affection  entertained  by  the  parties 
for  one  another.  There  should  be  perfect  confidence 
between  a   married  couple,  and  yet  each  should  be  so 


LETTER  XI.  93 

practised  in  self-command,  as  to  be  able  to  endure  pain  or 
sorrow,  without  communicating  it  to  the  other.  There 
should  be  a  mutual  willingness  to  endure  each  other's 
burdens,  and  yet  a  mutual  desire  to  suffer  alone,  rather  than 
impart  suffering  to  the  dearest  part  of  oneself.  One  decisive 
proof  of  the  impropriety  of  a  woman's  governing  her 
husband,  may  be  derived  from  the  well  known  fact,  that 
really  fine  women  never  undertake  the  unbecoming  task. 
Those  who  excel  in  this  invidious  art,  are  generally 
cunning,  self-willed  characters,  without  delicacy  or  refine- 
ment. If  a  woman  really  loves  her  husband,  it  will  give 
her  far  more  pleasure  to  obey  him,  than  to  govern  him. 
Warm  affection  finds  pleasure  in  submission,  and  delicacy 
shrinks  from  sway.  Even  where  the  female  understanding 
is  the  strongest,  a  woman  of  refinement  is  the  last  to  admit 
the  fact,  or  to  avail  herself  of  it,  by  taking  the  power  into 
her  own  hands.  It  is  always  painful  to  be  forced  to  acknow- 
ledge the  inferiority  of  that  intellect,  to  which  one  has  looked 
for  support  in  the  arduous  duties  of  life." 

If  I  had  before  doubted  these  truths,  my  dear  Mary,  the 
manner  in  which  I  heard  them  urged,  and  saw  them 
exemplified  on  this  occasion,  would  have  proved  their  cor- 
rectness. In  this  family,  there  was  obviously  one  pervading 
will,  so  unanimous  were  all  the  desires  and  operations  of  its 
united  head.  There  was  a  freedom  and  cheerfulness  among 
the  children,  which  proved  that  the  gloss  had  not  been 
taken  from  nature's  own  light-heartedness,  by  the  damps 
and  chills  of  discordant  rulers.  They  were  so  certain  that 
their  parents  agreed  on  all  subjects,  except  on  those  in 
which  they  had  agreed  to  disagree,  that  they  never  felt 
afraid  of  pleasing  one  at  the  expense  of  the  other.  To  my 
surprise  I  found,  after  I  left  them,  that  one  of  these  precon- 
certed differences,  was  on  the  tender  subject  of  religion. 
Helen  was  a  Presbyterian,  her  husband  an  Episcopalian ; 
and  they  enjoyed  themselves  as  Christians  together,  as  if 


94  LETTER  XII. 

they  had  belonged  to  the  same  sect.  How  often  have  I 
known  this  very  difference  made  an  excuse  for  altercation 
and  ill-will.  But  where  the  spirit  of  discord  prevails,  it 
will  subsist  on  aliment  scarce  visible  to  common  observers  ; 
and  where  it  does  not  exist,  the  most  important  discrepancies 
will  fail  to  produce  it. 

I  left  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Arundel  with  the  delightful  conviction 
that  I  knew,  not  only  one  happy  couple,  but  that  I  knew 
how  more  happy  couples  could  be  made  j  namely,  by 
practising  self-denial  and  forbearance  mutually,  by  cultivating 
disinterested  affection,  and  resigning  the  dear  delight  of 
giving  pain,  said  by  satirists  to  be  so  valuable  to  woman. 
My  dear  Mary,  the  sex  deserve  many  of  the  severest 
sarcasms  thrown  out  against  them.  They  do  not  sufficiently 
cultivate  those  virtues  which  their  relative  duties  require 
them  to  practise.  Until  they  lay  aside  the  desire  of  governing 
their  husbands,  and  learning  to  govern  themselves,  they 
cannot  be  happy  in  married  life.  The  same  energies,  wasted 
on  a  mistaken  aim,  will  suffice  to  produce  the  blessed  end 
of  peace  and  happiness.  O,  may  you  profit  by  these 
hints  from 

Your  true  friend. 


LETTER  XII. 

On  Dress. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

It  would  be  considered  a  serious  omission,  were  I  to 
leave  out  of  these  rules  for  feminine  propriety,  some  parti- 
cular strictures  on  the  important  subject  of  dress.  A  taste 
for  ornamenting  the  person  is  either  natural  to  women,  or 
it  is  inculcated  at  such  an  early  period  as  to  pass  current  for 


LETTER  XIL  95 

an  innate  propensity.  Habit,  in  this  respect  as  in  others,  is 
second  nature.  Perhaps  there  is  not  a  more  glaring  defect 
in  the  prevailing  system  of  female  education,  than  the  one 
which  leads,  or  misleads,  our  matrons  to  inoculate  their  little 
ones  with  the  epidemic  frenzy  of  personal  decoration.  They 
have  the  false  taste  to  imagine,  that  decoration  adds  to  infan- 
tine and  childish  beauty;  and  to  gratify  this  perverted 
sentiment,  they  poison  the  minds  of  their  offspring  without 
reflection. 

As  this  folly  prevails  chiefly  in  cities,  I  would  ask  those 
mothers  whose  lots  are  cast  in  those  nurseries  of  dissipation, 
to  consider  seriously  the  consequences  resulting  from  this 
erroneous  estimate  of  human  happiness.  In  the  first  place, 
the  pleasure  to  be  derived  from  this  source  is  of  a  most 
impure  character,  as  it  arises  from  the  gratification  of  vanity. 
The  mother,  while  she  is  decorating  her  child,  is  ministering 
openly  and  unequivocally  to  this  bosom  sin  both  in  herself 
and  in  the  little  victim  of  her  mistaken  fondness. 
*  Every  pleasurable  emotion  enjoyed  by  either  party  must 
arise  from  gratified  vanity.  But  the  mother  persists  in  this 
evil  habit  until  she  loses  her  consciousness  of  its  malignant 
tendency.  Jt  is  an  undeniable  fact,  that  even  gross  impro- 
priety ceases  to  alarm  the  mind,  when  it  becomes  a  part  of 
our  common  course  of  action.  The  mental  vision,  like  the 
outward  sense,  becomes  familiarized  to  deformity  by  constant 
contemplation  ;  rational  beings  cannot,  therefore,  be  too 
careful  in  investigating  their  own  motives  of  action ;  they 
should  beware  of  incorporating  tastes  and  opinions  too 
hastily  into  their  general  routine  of  established  and  author- 
ized habits.  Let  them  examine  strictly  and  deeply  into  the 
direct  and  collateral  tendency  of  every  passing  inclination 
before  they  indulge  it  unscrupulously.  There  is  sometimes 
a  hidden  poison  in  the  fairest  looking  flower. 

I  have  often  been  called  upon  by  very  fond  mothers  to 
admire  the  industry  which  prompted  them  to  cover  the 


96  LETTER  XII. 

garments  of  their  children  with  ornamental  needle-work  ; 
and  again  I  have  heard  prudent  matrons  accused  of  laziness, 
or  even  of  want  of  parental  affection,  because  they  bestowed 
no  superfluous  labour  on  their  children's  clothes.  No  doubt, 
you  have  often  heard  such  sensible,  judicious,  far-sighted 
remarks  as  the  following  :  "  Surely  Mrs.  A.  must  be  an 
indolent  woman  and  an  indifferent  mother ;  for  her  children 
are  dressed  in  the  plainest  manner  possible;  not  a  row  of 
hem-stitching  nor  scolloping,  not  a  frill  nor  a  flounce  ;  and 
her  daughters  almost  grown,  too. — Really  it  gives  one  but 
a  poor  opinion  of  her  heart,  to  say  nothing  of  her  under- 
standing, which  ought  to  prompt  a  little  decent  conformity 
with  the  most  common  usages  of  society.''  And  again, 
"What  a  charming,  sensible,  industrious  woman  Mrs.  B.  is; 
and  such  a  fond  mother,  too. — There  were  her  little  daugh- 
ters dressed  up  so  beautifully,  and  all  that  tedious  work  on 
their  frocks  was  done  by  her  own  hands,  as  she  herself 
assured  me.  She  must  be  a  woman  of  uncommon  merit. 
Those  little  girls  are  quite  captivating — and  they  have  such' 
womanly  manners  ;  they  don't  hang  their  heads  and  look 
sheepish  in  company,  like  Mrs.  A.'s  badly  brought  up  chil- 
dren. They  looked  up  when  they  were  spoken  to,  and 
answered  with  so  much  intelligence.  One  of  them  had  a 
row  of  trimming  on  her  frock  more  than  her  sister,  and  I 
asked  her  what  was  the  cause  of  that  difference?  she  replied 
with  a  bewitching  smile,  "Oh,  mamma  gave  me  that  row  of 
work,  because  I  was  a  better  girl  than  my  sister;  and  imme- 
diately the  other  little  thing  hung  her  head  with  so  much 
sensibility,  and  seemed  overcome  with  the  most  delicate 
emotion.  What  a  proof  of  skill  in  management  did  Mrs.  B. 
give,  by  thus  turning  such  a  trivial  occurrence  to  an  impor- 
tant end.  No  doubt,  those  girls  will  make  fine  women  when 
they  grow  up ;  I  certainly  never  saw  more  attractive  children. 
Their  mother  says  she  shall  spare  no  pains  in  giving  them 
the  most  accomplished  educations."  So  much  for  this  tirade* 


LETTER  XII.  97 

Girls  should  be  carefully  instructed  in  neatness  andjitness 
of  apparel.  They  should  be  taught  to  think  every  expense 
in  dress  culpable,  that  is  not  strictly  authorized  by  the  cir- 
cumstances of  their  parents.  Some  parents  are  so  proud, 
that  they  will  not  suffer  their  children  to  mingle  in  society 
with  those  who  can  afford  to  dress  better  than  they  can; 
while  some  are  so  foolishly  vain  that  they  ruin  themselves 
to  maintain  an  equality  of  appearance  with  the  rich.  Both 
these  errors  may  be  avoided  by  the  exertion  of  a  little  com- 
mon sense,  or  common  principle. 

Let  mothers,  with  whom  these  errors  too  often  origi- 
nate, bring  up  their  daughters  with  mental  qualifications 
to  fit  them  for  the  best  company,  and  carefully  inculcate 
economical  habits  from  childhood.  Accustom  them  to 
regard  the  distinctions  of  dress  as  beneath  their  rational 
consideration,  and  let  them  go  into  company  to  enjoy  an 
intellectual  banquet,  not  to  vie  with  the  persons  they  are  to 
meet  in  outward  decoration.  Instruct  them  to  be  more 
ashamed  of  dressing  beyond  their  circumstances,  than  of 
being  laggards  in  fashion  and  expense.  Some  parents  in 
moderate  circumstances,  covet  expensive  decorations  for 
their  children,  and  contrive  to  get  presents  made  them,  from 
their  richer  connexions.  This  is  entirely  wrong.  A  correctly 
brought  up  girl  will  be  ashamed  to  wear  any  thing  that  her 
parents  could  not  have  afforded  to  purchase.  She  will  justly 
feel,  that  such  an  idle  vanity  will  lead  the  world  to  cast 
aspersions  upon  her  own  prudence,  and  what  is  worse,  upon 
the  prudence  of  those  who  brought  her  up.  Let  her  be  con- 
tent to  wear  such  garments  as  can  be  procured  for  her  with 
a  safe  conscience;  that  is,  without  running  in  debt,  or  stint- 
ing in  something  more  important  than  apparel. 

But  it  is  utterly  vain  to  prescribe  palliatives  for  the  uni- 
versal folly  of  expensive  dress.  Until  women  have  their 
minds  properly  cultivated,  and  their  principles  correctly 
formed,  they  cannot  be  expected  to  reform  their  evil  habits. 
I 


98  LETTER  XII. 

Experience  may,  indeed,  lead  some  of  the  present  generation 
to  abj  tire  these  errors,  but  the  great  part  of  those  who  are  most 
tainted  with  this  disease,  will  carry  it  to  their  graves.  Our 
only  hope  is,  to  lay  a  firmer  foundation  for  moral  rectitude 
and  intellectual  improvement,  in  the  system  of  education  to 
be  adopted  by  the  rising  generation.  Let  all  those  who 
possess  influence  over  their  fellow-creatures  unite  in  exerting 
it  both  in  precept  and  example,  for  the  benefit  of  the  coming 
age. 

There  are  so  many  things  inimical  to  the  true  interests 
of  women  in  the  prevalent  follies  of  our  day,  that  it  cannot 
surely  be  superfluous  to  point  them  out,  with  the  hope  of 
final  eradication.  There  are  always  two  decided  classes 
among  those  who  follow  the  multitude  to  do  evil :  namely, 
the  wilfully  blind  and  the  unconsciously  ignorant.  Let  us 
not  despair  of  drawing  over  the  last  mentioned  portion  to 
our  efficient  aid.  There  are  interesting  young  mothers  in 
the  circle  of  my  acquaintance,  whose  countenances  announce 
so  much  gentleness  and  docility  that  I  should  not  be  afraid 
to  address  them  in  the  bold,  fluent  language  of  affectionate 
interest.  I  would  say,  My  dear  young  friends,  you  are 
unconsciously  nursing  sin  in  the  bosoms  of  your  children. 
All  those  superfluous  decorations  only  make  them  more 
attractive  in  your  eyes,  because  you  view  the  subject  super- 
ficially, and  only  see  what  appears  to  be  an  innocent  expres- 
sion of  maternal  love;  but  )ou  surely  have  more  regard  for 
the  immortal  souls  of  your  children  than  for  their  perishing 
bodies.  Be  assured,  that  every  time  you  call  your  children's 
attention  to  the  decoration  of  their  bodies,  you  virtually 
administer  aliment  to  a  nest  of  serpents  in  their  hearts.  You 
are  laying  the  foundation  for  many  an  overt  act  of  folly, 
and  many  a  secret  pang  of  remorse  in  their  young  bosoms. 
Ask  yourselves,  if  your  principles  have  been  strengthened, 
your  understandings  enlightened,  your  affections  purified, 
your  moral  sense  cultivated,  by  the  time  and  attention  you 


LETTER  XII.  99 

have  spent  on  external  decoration  ?  Are  you  really  hap- 
pier now,  or  have  you  any  surer  hopes  of  happiness  here- 
after, from  having  sedulously  cultivated  a  fondness  for  dress  ? 
I  do  not  hesitate  to  answer  these  interrogations  for  you  in 
the  negative.  Then  why  should  you  inculcate  in  your  off- 
spring tastes  and  inclinations  so  barren  of  present  and  future 
enjoyment  ?  You  are  cultivating  personal  vanity,  one  of 
the  proverbial  defects  of  your  sex.  You  are  teaching  your 
children  a  false  estimate  of  human  happiness;  for  it  is  indu- 
bitably certain,  that  if  either  you  or  they  find  enjoyment  in 
extrinsic  ornament,  it  must  be  from  the  gratification  of  an 
unholy  and  irrational  feeling.  It  is  your  duty,  your  first 
parental  duty,  to  open  the  sluices  of  virtuous  feeling  in  the 
bosoms  of  your  children,  and  to  close,  with  all  your  skill, 
those  which  are  likely  to  yield  only  bitter  waters. 

Are  you  performing  this  duty  by  cultivating  a  fondness 
for  dress  ?  Assuredly  not.  But  perhaps  you  are  about  to 
say,  that  you  do  not  mean  this  taste  should  grow  into  a 
passion.  You  intend  to  keep  it  from  penetrating  the  heart, 
or  becoming  one  of  the  ruling  principles  of  action.  My 
dear  friends,  what  right  have  you  to  suppose  that  you  can 
do  the  work  of  omnipotence  in  arresting  the  current  of 
moral  evil,  when  you  have  removed  the  bulwarks  that 
opposed  it  ?  Or  what  right  have  you  to  hope  that  omni- 
potence will  aid  you  in  picking  out  the  seeds  of  vice  which 
you  are  wilfully  scattering  in  a  soil  that  you  know  to  be 
fertile  ?  Did  you  ever,  or  can  you  ever  frame  such  a  prayer 
for  divine  aid  as  would  suit  your  present  exigencies  ?  Let 
us  hear  how  it  would  sound.  "  O  Lord,  I  am  inculcating  a 
passion  for  dress  in  my  child,  because  my  maternal  fond- 
ness delights  in  seeing  it  tastefully  apparelled;  but  I  pray 
thee  to  prevent  serious  evil  from  arising  out  of  this  natural 
indulgence  of  human  weakness.  Don't  let  my  child  grow 
up  frivolous  and  extravagant,  though  my  present  manage- 
ment has  a  tendency  to  make  her  so." 


100  LETTER  XII. 

You  are  doubtless  shocked  at  this  form  of  supplication, 
and  you  ought  to  be  still  more  shocked  to  think  that  you 
have  been  following  a  wrong  course  without  any  supplica- 
tion at  all.  O,  my  dear  young  friends,  retract  your  errors  at 
once,  and  guard  your  children  at  every  avenue  of  their 
hearts,  from  the  deleterious  mixture  of  vanity  and  self-conceit, 
concealed  under  every  superfluous  ornament  about  their  per- 
sons. Tear  off  those  trappings  :  are  the  sweet  babes  less 
attractive  to  you  without  them  ?  O  no  !  you  love  and  admire 
them,  perhaps  too  much,  as  the  Lord  made  them.  Then 
forbear  to  add  an  unnatural  and  factitious  interest  to  what 
is  already  an  object  of  almost  an  idolatrous  feeling. 

Look  at  the  subject  in  another  light,  my  dear  friends. 
Truth  obliges  me  to  tell  you,  that  your  own  hearts  are  in 
danger  of  contamination.  You  have  not  so  entirely  sup- 
pressed vanity  at  home,  as  to  make  it  safe  for  you  to  traffic 
much  in  this  contraband  article  with  others.  The  admira- 
tion bestowed  on  your  children  encourages  your  own  self- 
conceit.  Every  encomium  comes  home  with  almost  a  direct 
influence  to  your  own  heart. 

Beware,  or  you  may  be  lost  in  the  pleasing  labyrinth  of 
self-gratification,  and  draw  the  objects  of  your  affection 
after  you  to  utter  ruin.  Listen  to  the  voice  of  reason — 
hear  the  arguments  of  experience — search  the  Scriptures, 
and  you  will  be  convinced  of  your  error.  Life  is  too 
short,  and  eternity  too  awful,  to  permit  rational  beings  to 
trifle  thus  with  their  immortal  interests.  Dress  your 
children  plainly.  Deny  your  own  vanity  the  gratification 
of  seeing  them  adorned,  and  you  will  prevent  their  vanity 
from  growing  with  their  growth  and  strengthening  with 
their  strength.  Death  takes  away  many  of  these  little 
creatures  in  early  years.  Can  you  bear  to  think,  when 
your  infant  is  wrapped  in  its  last  vestment — a  shroud,  of  all 
the  needless  pains  you  have  taken  to  adorn  the  now 
decaying  body?    Then  allow  yourself  to  think  sometimes, 


LETTER  XIL  101 

while  preparing  its  living  garments,  that  after  all  your  care 
and  taste,  it  may  soon  be  called  to  the  plain  homely  vest- 
ment appointed  for  the  chambers  of  death. 

Let  us  then  hope,  my  dear  Mary,  that  the  rising  genera- 
tion will  learn  to  prefer  the  ornaments  of  a  meek  and  quiet 
spirit,  to  those  which  certainly  do  impede  the  growth  of  these 
evangelic  attributes.  Meantime  we  will  strive  to  check  the 
triumphant  march  of  that  usurper  of  our  rational  privileges, 
denominated  "  fashion." 

To  effect  even  the  smallest  approximation  to  this  general 
blessing,  will  require  a  strict  and  cordial  union  among  the 
disciples  of  the  meek  -and  lowly  Jesus.  We  must  exert 
our  combined  influence  on  those  veteran  sojourners  in  the 
tented  fields  of  dissipated  life,  who  have  become  inured  to 
their  own  follies.  Some  of  them  may  yet  yield  to  reason 
and  religion.  Some  of  them  may  have  delicacy  enough 
remaining  to  listen  to  appeals  like  the  following  :  If  women 
'please  by  adopting  a  disgusting  or  an  indelicate  costume, 
it  must  be  by  exciting  feelings  which  no  modest  or 
refined  female  can  bear  to  awaken.  Another  consideration 
deserves  attention — it  is  this  :  The  woman  who  attracts 
attention  by  excess  of  expense,  or  eccentricity  of  fashion, 
invariably  draws  upon  her  the  disapprobation,  if  not  the 
contempt,  of  sensible,  respectable  people.  She  is  ivondered 
at,  not  admired.  The  very  circumstance  of  her  seeking 
that  sort  of  invidious  notoriety,  inspires  her  beholders  with 
an  unfavourable  opinion  of  her  taste,  her  delicacy,  and  her 
principles. 

Women  of  the  present  day  are  without  the  excuse  for 
indulging  these  follies,  which  existed  in  our  country  some 
twenty-five  or  thirty  years  ago.  Personal  vanity  was  then 
cultivated  without  a  check;  and  its  license  did  so  much 
gross  injury  to  the  sex,  that  one  would  suppose  the  present 
race  of  women  to  be  forewarned  of  its  manifold  dangers. 
Those  were  days  of  ignorance,  which  God  winked  at;  but 
i2 


102  LETTER  XII. 

now  the  command  to  repent  is  sounded  far  and  wide  over 
our  gospel  favoured  land.  Religion  has  arisen,  like  the 
fabled  Phoenix  from  her  ashes,  and  ignorance  of  her  holy 
requisitions  is  now  a  wilful,  heaven-daring  sin.  The 
standard  of  the  gospel  is  about  to  be  twined  with  our  "  star 
spangled  banner,"  and  the  charter  of  our  liberties  will  be 
sealed  with  the  blood  of  the  atoning  sacrifice.  We  will 
have  no  union  between  church  and  state ;  but  religion  will  be 
the  bulwark  of  our  civil  rights,  because  it  will  teach  us  the 
proper  way  of  preserving  them.  It  has  been  thought 
doubtful  by  politicians,  whether  our  form  of  republican 
government  could  endure.  The  best  method  of  ensuring 
its  duration  will  be  to  enlist  the  Lord  of  hosts  on  our  side. 
A  religious  education  will  prepare  men  for  becoming  good 
citizens,  by  teaching  them  the  true  value  of  their  political 
privileges;  and  restraining  those  passions  which  gpccasion 
misrule  and  rebellion,  when  not  subjected  to  adequate  control. 
At  the  commencement  of  the  century  in  which  we  live, 
the  Christian  religion  had  sunk  to  its  lowest  ebb  in  our 
country.  Some  few  families  retained  a  sort  of  respect  for  its 
outward  forms,  which  led  them  to  shrink  from  the  poison 
of  infidelity,  then  wafted  across  the  Atlantic  on  the  tainted 
gales  of  French  politics.  But  the  vital  spirit  of  the  gospel 
was  unknown  and  unsought  among  the  southern  people  of 
America.  Young  ladies  were  allowed,  and  even  encouraged 
to  read  works  which  breathed  the  fatal  spirit  of  infidelity. 
Voltaire's  writings  were  much  in  vogue,  and  the  numerous 
imitators  of  his  pestilent  doctrines,  poured  forth  their  venom 
upon  the  world. 

But  the  time  will  soon  come,  when  all  those  daring  theo- 
rists will  be  remembered  only  as  the  enemies  of  virtue  and 
happiness.  Their  short-lived  fame  is  already  tarnished  by 
the  discovery  that  their  opinions  are  fatal  to  the  peace  and 
happiness  of  mankind.  The  enemies  of  religion  are  indeed 
the  enemies  of  the  whole  race  of  man.     They  would  take 


LETTER  XII.  103 

from  their  fellow  beings  the  sole  remedy  provided  by  omni- 
potent mercy  for  the  variety  of  ills  which  constitute  the 
inheritance  of  man.  They  would  shut  out  the  healing 
stream  from  the  diseased  and  dying  in  this  world,  and  close 
for  ever  the  golden  gates  of  heaven  upon  the  toil  worn 
pilgrims,  who  have  faltered  through  their  appointed  course 
of  earthly  trials,  and  might  be  entitled  to  a  blessed  inherit- 
ance above. 

There  is  something  appalling  to  the  imagination  in  the 
contemplation  of  Voltaire's  last  moments.  Yet  it  is  a 
picture  which  should  be  hung  up  for  exhibition  before  the 
congregated  world.  What  unutterable  horrors  pervaded 
his  soul,  when  it  received  its  final  summons  to  appear  before 
its  Maker  and  its  judge.  He  was  discovered  by  his  attend- 
ant with  a  book  of  prayers  in  his  hand,  endeavouring,  with 
a  faltering  tongue,  to  repeat  some  of  the  petitions  for  mercy, 
addressed  to  that  Being,  whose  name  he  had  blasphemed. 
He  had  fallen  from  his  bed  in  convulsive  agonies,  and  lay 
foaming  with  impotent  despair  on  the  floor,  exclaiming, 
"  Will  not  this  God,  whom  I  have  denied,  save  me  too  ? 
Cannot  infinite  mercy  extend  to  me  ?"  Awful  spectacle  ! 
Where  was  then  the  fame  for  which  he  had  laboured  ?  the 
applause  which  had  been  as  the  breath  of  his  nostrils? 
Where  were  the  hollow  hearted  flatterers  whose  faithless  pro- 
fessions of  friendship  had  deceived  him  in  prosperity  ?  Alas, 
they  were  the  first  to  forsake  him  in  the  hour  of  misery  ! 
His  last  moments  were  attended  solely  by  a  hired  menial, 
who  is  said  to  have  inquired,  when  next  applied  to  in  her 
professional  capacity,  Whether  the  gentleman  who  wanted 
her  services  was  a  philosopher?  For  she  declared  herself 
unable  to  stand  the  horror  of  another  scene  like  the  death 
bed  of  Voltaire,  and  would  rather  forego  the  emolument 
than  engage  in  such  an  arduous  and  soul-appalling  duty. 

What  must  have   been  the  condition  of  that  departed 
spirit,  when  the  dread  realities  of  the  future  burst  upon  its 


104  LETTER  XII. 

unobstructed  vision?  When  the  awful  throne  of  an  insulted 
Sovereign  rose  in  sublime  majesty  before  the  immortal  soul, 
on  its  entrance  into  eternity !  When  the  first  object  it  beheld, 
in  the  dread  realms  of  futurity,  \va9  the  Being  whose  exist- 
ence he  had  denied,  whose  cause  he  had  persecuted  !  And 
that  Being  enthroned  in  omnipotence  as  his  final  Judge ! 
Let  us  draw  a  veil  over  the  terrific  spectacle. 

I  will  conclude  this  long  epistle,  my  dear  Mary,  by  relating 
an  anecdote,  which  I  think  will  interest  you.  A  gentleman 
of  extreme  good  sense  and  piety  had  the  misfortune  to 
find  his  only  daughter,  whose  education  he  had  entrusted  to 
a  sister  of  his  deceased  wife,  so  much  perverted  by  infidelity 
and  fashionable  folly,  that  he  dreaded  to  think  of  her  probable 
destiny.  He  had  been  engaged  abroad,  for  many  years,  in 
the  service  of  his  country,  and  on  his  return  he  took  home 
his  daughter,  to  preside  as  mistress  of  an  elegant  establish- 
ment. The  young  lady  was  enchanted  to  find  a  dressing 
room  prepared  in  the  true  Parisian  taste,  with  an  ample 
proportion  of  mirrored  surface.  The  walls  were  painted 
with  scenes  taken  from  Telemachus,  and  over  every 
group  of  figures  was  a  scroll  containing  wreaths  of  flowers 
and  mottos.  These  inscriptions  were  printed  in  reversed 
sentences,  which  could  only  be  read  as  they  were  reflected 
in  the  mirrors.  They  were  selected  from  the  Bible,  ajid 
contained  such  admonitions  as  the  following  :  "  Commune 
with  your  own  heart,  in  your  chamber,  and  be  still."  "  Be 
ye  not  conformed  to  this  world/'  "  Keep  yourself  unspotted 
from  the  world."  The  young  votary  of  fashion  was  at 
first  highly  displeased  with  these  unseasonable  admonitions  ; 
but  as  her  father  imposed  no  personal  restraint  upon  her, 
she  determined  to  disregard  her  silent  monitors.  By  insen- 
sible degrees,  however,  she  became  fond  of  studying  the 
meaning  of  these  sentences.  They  met  her  eye  continually 
in  her  most  listless  languid  moments.  Conscience  at  length 
took  part  with  these  strange  advisers,  and  the  Father  had 


LETTER  XIII.  105 

soon  the  pleasure  of  seeing  his  daughter  a  sterling  Christian, 
by  the  deliberate  conviction  of  her  own  reason,  and  consent 
of  her  own  heart. 

Farewell. 


LETTER  Xin. 

Promiscuous  Dancing  Assemblies. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

Such  questions  as  the  following  are  now  frequently  asked 
of  the  professors  of  religion  :  Do  you  really  think  dancing 
a  sinful  amusement?  Are  you  not  falling  into  a  pernicious 
extreme,  when  you  require  young  converts,  to  resign  so  many 
of  the  amusements  common  to  youth  ?  Such  recreations,  too, 
as  are  no  way  incompatible  with  strict  morality  ?  Will  you 
not  injure  the  cause  of  religion,  by  this  over  strictness? 

To  these  interrogatories  the  advocates  of  Christianity,  can 
only  reply,  That  they  do  not  presume  to  impose  their  own 
judgments  upon  the  world,  as  rules  of  propriety.  That  in 
forming  their  opinions  on  the  subject  of  fashionable  amuse- 
ments, they  have  been  guided  solely  by  the  Scriptures,  having 
obeyed  a  divine  mandate  in  searching  those  holy  records  for 
a  knowledge  of  the  requisitions  of  Christianity.  I  would  say 
to  any  young  lady  who  might  reproach  me  for  thinking  balls 
injurious  to  the  vital  spirit  of  religion :  My  dear  girl,  I 
do  not  condemn  them  on  my  own  authority.  It  is  the  Bible 
that  teaches  me  the  incompatibility  of  such  recreations  with 
the  cultivation  of  a  devotional  spirit.  If  you  can  conscien- 
tiously indulge  yourself  in  these  amusements,  after  diligently 
searching  the  holy  Records,  and  prayerfully  endeavouring  to 
understand  the  will  of  God,  as  there  revealed  to  his  crea- 


106  LETTER  XIII. 

tures ;  if  you  can  comprehend  the  divine  laws  in  their  full, 
spiritual  interpretation,  and  yet  think  yourself  safe  in  follow- 
ing the  world  to  its  appropriate  haunts,  surely  no  one  can 
pretend  to  censure  your  practice.  But  at  the  same  time  I 
must  warn  you  that  there  is  danger  of  your  being  misled  in 
your  investigations  by  the  advice  of  worldly  friends.  They 
cannot  be  proper  judges,  and  therefore  they  must  not  be 
received  as  umpires  in  this  question.  Again  I  say,  search 
the  Scriptures,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  precept  among 
many  similar  ones  ?  "  Be  ye  not  conformed  to  this  world, 
but  be  ye  transformed  by  the  renewing  of  your  mind,  that 
you  may  prove  what  is  that  good,  and  acceptable,  and  holy 
will  of  God."  I  understand  the  first  part  of  this  sentence  to 
mean,  that  Christians  are  to  avoid  worldly  practices;  that  is, 
they  are  to  give  up  such  things  as  unfit  their  hearts  for  the 
enjoyment  of  holy  feelings,  and  devout  aspirations ;  and  they 
must  not  only  do  this,  but  they  must  be  transformed  by  the 
renewing  of  their  minds.  That  is,  they  must  undergo  a 
change  or  transformation  from  their  natural  state,  the  result 
of  which  will  be  the  introduction  of  new  tastes  and  inclina- 
tions. At  first  they  shrink  from  conformity  with  the  world, 
because  they  are  required  to  do  so  ;  afterwards  they  become 
so  changed  that  this  conformity  ceases  to  be  agreeable.  The 
Spirit  of  God  brings  about  this  change  upon  those  who  show 
a  willingness  to  abide  by  the  imperative  precept.  If  they 
cavil  at,  or  reject  this  precept,  the  Spirit  will  not  renew  their 
hearts.  But  if  they  yield  entire  submission  to  a  plain  and 
clear  direction,  they  are  rewarded  by  finding  all  unwilling- 
ness removed  from  their  minds,  and  a  full  and  perfect 
acquiescense  of  their  own  will,  with  the  will  of  God,  pro- 
duced by  divine  operation. 

When  this  comes  to  pass,  they  prove,  by  their  own 
personal  experience,  the  sweetness  and  perfection  of  that 
holy  will. 

But  when  professors  of  religion  begin  by  endeavouring  to 


LETTER  XIII.  107 

establish  their  own  interpretation  of  this  precept  of  non 
conformity;  when  they  obviously  shrink  from  its  full  mean- 
ing, and  slide  in  their  own  exceptions  to  each  prohibitory 
mandate,  they  are  obviously  not  entitled  to  the  aid  of  the 
Spirit  in  renewing  their  minds.  For  example,  the  lover  of 
dancing  affirms  that  she  does  not  consider  balls  as  included 
in  the  prohibition  of  worldly  conformity;  the  theatre-going 
professor  claims  immunity  for  her  favourite  amusement. 
Thus  each  person,  according  to  her  particular  tastes  and  pro- 
pensities, rescues  her  favourite  pursuit  from  the  charge  of 
being  an  unscriptural  degree  of  conformity  with  the  world. 
When  all  these  exceptions  are  aggregated,  we  shall  next  dis- 
cover that  the  rule  itself  may  be  set  aside  as  altogether  nuga- 
tory ;  for  if  each  person  claims  a  right  to  follow  her  favourite 
pursuit,  the  injunction  "  not  to  be  conformed  to  the  world,"  is 
of  little  avail  in  restraining  worldly  folly. 

Thus  we  find  Christians  still  anxious  to  follow  carnal 
pleasures,  because  they  have  not  been  transformed  in  the 
renewing  of  their  minds,  and  have  not  proved  the  will,  of 
God  in  this  respect  to  be  good  and  perfect.  But  when  pro- 
fessors shew  a  willingness  to  deny  themselves  what  has  not 
yet  ceased  to  be  agreeable,  they  will  in  due  time  find  their 
worldly  desires  subdued  by  the  Spirit  of  God.  We  are  pre- 
pared to  expect  that  some  sacrifices  will  be  required  of  us, 
for  the  religion  of  Christ  is  a  self-denying  religion.  I  should 
be  forced  to  tell  the  young  lady  who  accused  me  of  over 
strictness  in  prohibiting  balls,  that  I  must  refer  her  to  the 
Scripture  for  my  objections  to  that  degree  of  worldly  con- 
formity which  she  affects  to  think  innocent. 

I  have  had  real  arguments  with  such  persons,  my  dear 
Mary.  I  have  endeavoured  to  inure  them  to  the  plain  truth 
of  Scripture  ;  and  they  have,  as  you  may  conjecture,  evaded 
my  arguments  in  sport,  or  repelled  them  in  anger. 

Yet  I  would  not  again  object  to  undertake  an  office  fraught 
with  such  important  consequences.     Can  the  disciple  of 


108  LETTER  XIII. 

Christianity  deliberately  affirm,  that  she  takes  dancing  par- 
ties into  her  regular  plan  of  Christian  practice  ?  I  fancy, 
she  would  shrink  from  such  an  inconsistency.  And  yet  she 
would  be  offended  at  being  asked  if  she  was  without  a  plan 
of  life — a  system  of  religious  discipline. 

I  grant  that  the  pursuit  of  selfish  pleasure  is  natural,  for 
self  is  the  idol  of  the  unrenewed  heart.  But  the  Christian 
professes  to  have  overthrown  that  Dagon,  and  substituted  in 
its  place  the  legitimate  possessor  of  his  affections.  We  must 
then  prove  which  of  our  pleasures  are  really  selfish,  and 
which  tend  to  glorify  God.  Few  will  deny  the  influence  of 
dissipation  in  unnerving  the  heart  and  mind.  Few  will 
attempt  to  defend  excess  in  the  pursuit  of  pleasure.  Alas  ! 
there  are  monuments  before  our  eyes  in  the  exhibition  room 
of  the  public,  which  too  forcibly  remind  us  of  this  truth. 
They  show  how  the  soul  can  persist  in  plunging  deeper  and 
deeper  into  those  habits  which  palsy  its  noblest  powers,  and 
unfit  it  for  the  service  of  its  Maker.  They  have  gone  through 
life  in  the  pursuit  of  the  veriest  baubles  of  this  unsubstantial 
scene.  Life  is  to  them  but  a  succession  of  worn-out  follies 
and  exhausted  pleasures,  the  very  dregs  of  which  suffice  to 
nourish  the  little  vitality  that  remains  to  them.  They  have 
preyed  on  gaibage  until  they  have  lost  all  relish  for  whole- 
some nutriment. 

But  we  must  inquire,  What  was  the  commencement 
of  this  evil  ?  Every  thing  has  a  beginning.  Why,  my  young 
friends,  I  must  say  to  those  who  are  advocating  their  favour- 
ite amusement ;  they  set  out  from  the  very  point  about  which 
you  are  now  contending.  Satan  had  no  other  vantage  ground 
in  attacking  them  at  first  but  the  very  disputed  spot  on 
which  you  stand.  Doubtless  they  too  thought  themselves 
secure  of  not  exceeding  the  evangelical  Mm'iis  of  pleasure; 
those  imaginary  boundaries,  for  which  so  many  are  now 
contending.  Ah!  he  well  knows  that  if  he  can  but  get  the 
untried  soul  to  verge  on  his  forbidden  region  j  to  stretch 


LETTER  XIII.  109 

forth  even  a  thought,  or  a  wish,  towards  his  allotted  portion 
of  worldly  enjoyments,  he  has  much  cause  to  anticipate  a 
final  triumph.     These  are  fearful  thoughts,  my  dear  Mary. 

Christ  came  to  save  that  which  was  lost.  But  he  will  not 
save  us  after  our  own  plan.  He  will  not  leave  us  precisely 
in  the  same  spot  where  he  found  us.  Oh  no  !  that  were  a 
vain,  a  futile  hope.  We  must  follow  him  to  his  own  ground, 
and  agree  to  abide  with  him  for  the  rest  of  our  lives.  Where 
did  he  find  some  of  us  ?  Immersed  in  worldly  pleasures. 
What  portion  of  those  pleasures  does  he  allow  us  to  take 
with  us  on  the  road  to  Heaven  as  provision  for  our  journey 
towards  the  Jordan  of  death  ?  Certainly,  only  such  as  are 
favourable  to  the  growth  of  that  holiness,  without  which  no 
man  can  see  the  Lord.  We  can  carry  no  contraband  articles 
into  the  narrow  road  which  leadeth  to  salvation.  As  prudent 
travellers  in  that  road,  it  becomes  us  to  examine  our  resour- 
ces, and  cast  out  whatever  is  unsuited  to  the  place.  Napo- 
leon set  up  a  theatre  in  the  midst  of  the  conflagration  of 
Moscow.  Have  we  any  time  for  vain  unprofitable  amuse- 
ments, when  we  know  the  uncertainty  of  life  and  the  cer- 
tainty of  a  future  state  ? 

Suppose  a  band  of  travellers,  journeying  together  towards 
a  place  where  they  had  centred  all  their  hopes  of  happiness; 
two  or  three  journey  on  and  never  turn  aside;  their  thoughts 
are  too  much  occupied  to  be  diverted  by  the  baubles  and  glit- 
tering things  circulating  around  them.  Two  or  three  others, 
however,  must  pause  a  little,  and  turn  aside — for  what  ?  asks 
their  alarmed  company.  "  Oh,  only  to  partake  a  very  inno- 
cent amusement ;  you  see  those  handsomely  drest  people 
yonder,  convened  together  for  a  dancing  party;  the  scene  is 
so  exhilarating,  that  we  must  join  it."  "  But,"  say  the  sober 
travellers,  "  we  shall  get  before  you,  for  we  cannot  stop ; 
besides,  you  will  be  away  at  the  time  when  we  all  unite  in 
worshipping  God.  We  shall  miss  you  at  his  altar."  "  Oh 
no  !  you  must  pray  for  us  ;"  say  the  ball-goers.  "  What, 
K 


1  J  0  LETTER  XIII. 

pray  for  those  who  are  doing  an  unnecessary  thing  at  the  very 
season  allotted  for  prayer!  that  would  exceed  our  privilege. 
No  !   If  yon  were  serving  God  at  some  dangerous  post  we 
would  intercede  for  you  ;  but  you  are  going  where  you  must 
forget  him  for  a  time  in  selfish  gratification.     Besides,  you 
are  conforming  to  the  world."   "Oh  !  no,  no — we  deny  that 
— farewell — we   shall  come  back  to  you  in  safety."     The 
travellers  move  on  in  sadness;  for  w7ho  can  be  otherwise  than 
sad  while  thinking  of  a  fellow  creature  in  danger  or  in  sin. 
The  solemn  season  of  prayer  approaches,  and  these  sanc- 
tified spirits  pour  forth  their  effusions  in   peace  and  joy. 
They  breathe   an  aspiration  for  their  heedless  companions, 
and  pray  that   the  Holy  Ghost  may  visit  their  hearts  with 
his  transforming   power,   and   cleanse   them   from   carnal 
desires.     But  this  night  which  came  over  them,  like  any 
other  season  of  rest  and  darkness,  may  be  the  time  appointed 
for  the  marriage  supper   of    the   Lamb.     At   midnight   a 
cry  is  sounded,  "  Behold,  the  Bridegroom  cometh."     The 
watchers  start  from  their  tranquil  rest,  and  are  ready  at 
their  post  of  duty.     They  enter  with  their  Master,  and  as 
the  doors  are   closing,  many   tender   thoughts   turn  back 
towards  the  deserters  from  their  company.     Alas !  where 
are  those  heedless  revellers?    What  are  their  present  feel- 
ings,  surfeited   with   pleasure,  and  wearied  with  senseless 
mirth?   They  are  perhaps   tottering  homewards,  languid, 
listless  and  unsatisfied;  they  begin  to  lend  an  ear  to  the  still, 
small  voice  of  conscience,  whose  whispers  had  been  hitherto 
drowned  in  the  noise  of  revelry,  or  repressed  by  the  eager 
throbbings  of  palpitating  mirth.     They  at  length  arrive. 
But  alas  !   the  doors  are  closed  upon  them,  and  they  strive 
in  vain   to  enter.     "  Were  you  not  enjoined  to  watch  ?" 
asks  a  spectator.  "  Were  you  not  forewarned,  that  you  would 
not  know  the  precise  hour  of  your  Master's  arrival  ?    Sure 
that  was  enough  to  have  kept  you  in  place,  if  you  really 
wished  to  be  the  followers  of  the  Lamb."     But  words  avail 


LETTER  XIII.  HI 

nothing;  facts  are  plain  and  convincing.  These  foolish 
virgins  deserted  their  post  of  duty,  and  lost  their  promised 
bliss,  by  neglecting  the  admonitions  of  divine  wisdom.  In 
other  language,  they  went  to  a  dancing  party .  And  surely 
no  one  will  pretend  to  say,  that  diseases  and  death  never 
come  to  such  places.  The  dress,  the  food,  the  drink,  the 
air,  the  hour,  the  sort  of  exercise,  the  train  of  thought,  the 
style  of  conversation,  and  every  other  imaginable  conco- 
mitant of  such  places,  is  inimical  to  the  health  of  the  body, 
and  the  prosperity  of  the  soul. 

But  some  people  say,  that  other  parties  of  pleasure  are  as 
bad  as  balls.  That  assemblies  where  dancing  is  prohibited, 
are  not  at  all  more  moral  or  intellectual  than  balls.  Well, 
granting  that  scandal  is  sometimes  talked  and  mischief  pro- 
mulgated at  sitting  parties;  still  it  appears  very  practicable 
to  make  such  parties  profitable.  People  meet  together  at 
them  for  the  express  purpose  of  making  use  of  their  intel- 
lectual powers,  and  solacing  themselves  with  social  inter- 
course. It  may  happen  that  these  purposes  are  sometimes 
rendered  abortive  by  the  folly  or  vice  of  one  or  two  persons: 
but  yet  I  must  affirm,  that  there  is  less  expense,  less  display, 
less  emulation  among  the  members  of  an  ordinary  meeting 
for  social  enjoyment,  than  at  a  ball.  There  is  always  an 
opportunity  for  rational  conversation  among  sensible  peo- 
ple, for  their  voices  are  not  drowned  by  the  uproar  of  music 
and  dancing,  nor  their  ideas  jostled  out  of  all  order  by  the 
convulsive  movements  of  their  bodies.  If  sitting  parties,  as 
they  are  called,  are  not  agreeable  and  even  profitable  places 
of  resort  considered  merely  as  relaxations,  it  must  be 
because  the  society  which  composes  them  is  radically  bad. 
For  rational  conversation  is  always  in  their  power,  as  their 
meeting  is  expressly  designed  for  the  harmonious  inter- 
change of  thought  and  feeling.  It  seems,  on  the  other  hand, 
that  scandal  is  the  appropriate  interlude  of  dancing  ;  for  the 
degree  of  excitement  attendant  on  that  sort  of  exercise  is 


112  LETTER  XIII. 

certainly  favourable  to  the  careless  random  expression  of 
every  irregular  thought  ;  and  unfavourable  to  the  calm, 
steady  employment  of  the  rational  powers.  The  high  tone 
of  gaiety;  the  exuberant  flow  of  animal  spirits;  the  wild 
flight  of  thought,  which  seems  to  float  unconnectedly  on 
the  winged  sounds  of  the  musical  instruments,  as  if  reason 
had  purposely  removed  every  barrier,  and  broken  down 
every  restraint  usually  imposed  on  the  powers  under  her 
direction  :  all  these  symptoms  of  misrule  and  disorder  in 
the  mental  department,  will  be  found  to  attend  parties  pro- 
fessedly for  dancing.  And  surely  to  one  who  has  analyzed 
his  own  feelings  at  such  a  season,  it  must  be  apparent,  that 
frequent  indulgences  of  such  a  nature,  would  resemble 
licensed  fits  of  mental  distraction,  and  permitted  aberrations 
of  reason  in  their  effects  upon  the  intellectual  region  of  man. 

"Who  would  like  to  be  summoned  from  the  ball-room  to 
his  final  audit  ?  What  belle  would  be  reconciled  to  the  idea 
that  she  was  suddenly  to  exchange  the  elaborate  decorations 
of  her  ball  night,  and  the  affluent  magnificence  of  her 
dancing  apparel,  for  her  last  garment,  the  shroud  ? 

And  ought  a  rational  creature  voluntarily  to  enter  a 
situation  from  which  he  would  be  particularly  unwilling  to 
meet  his  final  doom  ?  What  young  lady  would  not  shrink 
with  horror  from  the  idea  of  falling  dead  in  a  cotillon  or  a 
waltz  ?  Surely  sudden  death  in  any  other  situation  could  not 
be  equally  appalling. 

It  might  be  said  that  other  situations,  (such  as  we 
have  mentioned,  as  sometimes  contrasted  with  balls,)  would 
be  as  unfavourable  scenes  for  the  sudden  close  of  life.  But 
I  cannot  admit  this  reasoning.  A  young  lady,  for  instance, 
may  go  to  a  silting  party  with  the  rational  design  of  spend- 
ing an  evening  in  intelligent  conversation.  She  may  join  a 
group  of  really  amiable,  highly  cultivated  people,  and  if  she 
desires  improvement,  she  may  glean  no  inconsiderable 
portion  of  it  from  refined  and  intellectual  society.     It  is  true 


LETTER  XV.  121 

— a  spontaneous  service.  It  is,  indeed,  the  very  atmosphere 
of  the  Christian's  soul ;  he  can  breathe  freely  in  no  other,  and 
the  lamp  of  faith  burns  brightly  only  when  exposed  to  its 
vivifying  influence.  So  far  from  being  an  irksome  duty, 
which  is  omitted  whenever  excuses  serve  ;  it  so  dear  and 
valuable  a  privilege,  that  every  thing  that  interrupts  it  is  to 
be  deprecated.  One  reason  why  Christians  object  so  deci- 
dedly to  balls  and  plays  is,  that  these  amusements  occupy 
those  hours  usually  and  naturally  allotted  to  devotional 
exercises.  No  mere  sensual  or  earthly  pleasure  can  com- 
pensate for  the  privation  of  even  one  hour  of.  this  coveted 
employment.  The  Christian,  who  goes  to  a  ball  or  a  play, 
must  make  a  deliberate  renunciation  of  his  accustomed  sea- 
son of  communion  with  his  God;  and  he  derives  too  much 
peace  and  happiness  from  that  occupation,  to  be  willing  to 
exchange  it  for  the  purest  earthly  pleasure.  It  might,  indeed, 
be  urged  as  an  inducement,  that  it  was  only  for  one  night 
that  this  sacrifice  would  be  required,  and  that  he  might  return 
to  his  devotions  on  the  next  night  without  impediment ;  but 
the  real  disciple  of  Christ  has  the  shortness  and  uncertainty 
of  life  constantly  before  his  eyes  :  death  is  not  so  terrible 
a  thing  to  him,  as  to  cause  him  always  to  shrink  from  its  con- 
templation. He  might  truly  say,  "  I  know  not  what  a  night 
may  bring  forth.  If  I  omit  prayer  now,  I  may  never  live  to 
see  another  devotional  season.  No,  I  cannot  leave  the  altar 
of  my  God  for  the  service  of  the  world,  even  for  a  single 
evening."  People  who  speak  of  worldly  pleasures  as  being  so 
hard  to  relinquish,  are,  in  truth,  acquainted  with  no  others. 
If  they  were,  they  would  not  complain  as  they  do,  of  the 
hardship  of  requiring  Christians  to  give  up  worldly  enjoy- 
ments. 

Prayer  is  the  only  shield  which  can  repel  the  fiery  darts 

of  temptation;  the  only  weapon  with  which  the  soul  can 

effectually  resist  the   destroyer.      It  is  the   impenetrable 

breastplate  of  the  righteous,  and  a  key  to  the  treasury  of 

L 


1 22  LETTER  XV. 

heaven.  It  is  the  lever  which  raises  the  soul  from  earth  to 
a  near  contemplation  of  the  glories  of  heaven.  Faith  shews 
us  what  we  want,  and  tells  us  who  will  gratify  our  wants. 
Prayer  brings  us  at  once  within  supplicating  distance.  The 
Holy  Spirit  teaches  us  to  pray.  Without  that  instructor,  we 
could  not  hope  to  be  heard,  even  for  our  much  speaking. 
Prayer  is  indeed  an  awful  business  to  those  whose  souls  are 
not  imbued  with  the  Holy  Spirit ;  but  to  the  favoured  child 
of  adoption,  the  language  of  supplication  is  as  sweet  and 
familiar  as  household  words.  Is  the  soul  happy  ?  It  delights 
in  praise  and  thanksgiving.  Is  it  enthralled  by  sin  ?  Christ 
came  to  save  sinners,  even  the  chief.  Is  it  dark  with  human 
sorrow  ?  There  is  one  who  has  said,  "  Call  upon  me  in 
the  hour  of  trouble,  and  I  will  help  you."  Does  it  need 
any  thing  ?  Christ  has  said,  in  plain  terms,  "  Ask,  and  ye 
shall  receive."  Has  it  lost  any  thing  ?  He  expressly  says, 
u  Seek  and  ye  shall  find."  Does  it  long  for  the  divine  pres- 
ence ?  Let  it  knock,  and  the  door  shall  be  opened  to  it. 
Lastly,  Is  it  weary  and  heavy  laden,  either  with  sin  or  sor- 
row ?  Let  it  "  come  unto  him  who  can  give  it  rest." 

The  Apostle  says,  "  Pray  without  ceasing."  "  Continue 
instant  in  prayer."  This  obviously  does  not  mean,  that 
the  Christian  should  be  always  on  his  knees,  and  shut  up 
from  society  ;  but  it  means  that  the  spirit  of  devotion  should 
be  always  alive  and  active,  so  that  the  silent  thoughts  can 
recur  continually  to  the  ever  present  God,  without  hinder- 
ance  to  the  movements  of  the  body,  or  the  labour  of  the 
hands. 

In  your  accustomed  seasons  of  devotion,  let  your  sense  of 
indwelling  sin  be  strong  and  humiliating.  Never  seek  to 
attain  self-complacency,  nor  fancy  that  your  prayers  are 
rejected,  because  you  feel  an  abiding  sense  of  weakness  and 
helplessness.  While  we  have  this,  we  are  in  no  danger  of 
trying  to  stand  alone.  The  child  that  has  never  walked 
across  > the  room  without  aid,  is  so  much  afraid  of  falling, 


LETTER  XV.  123 

that  it  will  not  relinquish  its  mother's  hand.  This  child- 
like spirit  of  dependence  is  a  very  safe  feeling  for  Christians 
of  all  ages. 

Remember  the  injunction  to  persevere  in  prayer,  for 
in  due  time  you  shall  reap  if  you  faint  not.  Any  thing  and 
every  thing  is  salutary  that  keeps  up  a  prayerful  spirit,  and 
brings  us  often  to  a  throne  of  grace.  This  is  the  true  reason 
why  adversity  increases  our  piety.  When  we  have  a  bur- 
den to  bear,  or  a  blessing  to  obtain,  we  come  often  and 
eagerly  to  ask  it :  when  we  are  full  of  the  good  things  of  life, 
we  are  apt  to  stay  among  them  two  much,  and  neglect  a  bet- 
ter occupation.  Beware  of  thinking  that  your  prayers  are 
rejected,  before  you  have  sufficient  proof  of  the  fact.  The 
very  means  that  the  Lord  sometimes  takes  to  accomplish 
our  wishes,  may  have  a  contrary  aspect  at  the  first  glance. 
Thus  if  we  pray  for  any  spiritual  blessing,  the  preparation 
of  soul  necessary  to  introduce  it,  may  appear  to  us  like 
taking  away  the  little  share  of  that  particular  grace  that  we 
had  before.  For  instance,  we  pray  for  humility,  and  by 
and  by,  we  are  assailed  by  such  bitter  mortifications  of  soul, 
that  we  think  ourselves  doomed  to  incessant  strivings  of  the 
adverse  spirit.  After  a  time,  however,  we  begin  to  feel 
something  like  a  dawn  of  the  good  feeling  we  were  seeking. 
Our  late  conflicts  of  soul  have  subsided,  and  the  circum- 
stances that  occasioned  them  have  proved  favourable  to  the 
growth  of  humility.  Young  Christians  are  not  aware  that 
the  virtues  they  pray  for,  will  not  come  at  once  and  settle 
down  without  a  struggle  in  the  unpropitious  region  of  their 
hearts.  When  they  feel  the  strivings  of  the  spirit  within 
them,  they  are  undergoing  the  preparatory  exercises  of  the 
very  grace  they  have  been  asking.  When  the  fallow  ground 
has  been  plowed  up,  the  good  seed  scattered,  and  the  early 
and  latter  rain  has  fallen,  it  will  be  soon  enough  to  look  for 
she  harvest  time. 

Many  ask  importunately,  and  do  not  obtain,  because  they 


1 24  LETTER  XV. 

ask  amiss.  Christians  sometimes  abuse  their  privileges. 
They  have  such  confidence  in  the  goodness  of  their  heavenly 
Father,  and  such  faith  in  the  efficacy  of  prayer,  that  they 
waste  time  and  energy  in  soliciting  what  heavenly  wisdom 
still  withholds,  because  it  would  be  an  improper  and  an 
unsafe  possession.  It  is  always  better  to  strive  for  patient 
submission  to  present  evils,  than  to  supplicate  their  removal. 
Had  they  not  been  necessary  trials,  God  would  not  have 
sent  them,  (for  he  never  afflicts  his  people  unnecessarily,) 
and  being  really  intended  to  answer  some  good  purpose,  we 
should  endeavour  to  bear  them  patiently.  Ask  for  a  sub- 
missive spirit,  and  leave  it  to  infinite  wisdom  to  decide 
whether  your  trials  have  wrought  their  intended  effect  upon 
your  character  or  not.  If  they  have,  he  will  remove  them 
of  himself;  if  they  have  not,  be  assured  he  will  not  do  his 
work  negligently.  Our  murmurings  under  an  appointed 
burden,  are  much  more  likely  to  make  its  continuance 
necessary,  than  to  occasion  its  removal. 

Some  Christians  are  impatient  under  circumstances  which 
do  not  give  sufficient  scope  to  their  energies.  They  are 
ready  to  exclaim,  "  I  have  no  opportunity  of  doing  good, 
though  my  desires  are  great."  Depend  on  it,  the  Lord 
knows  best  what  is  suited  to  our  capacities.  If  he  gives  us 
little  outward  work  to  do,  it  is  a  sign  that  we  have  much  to 
control  and  arrange  within.  Perhaps  our  obvious  duties 
are  disagreeable,  and  we  pine  after  others  more  congenial. 
Now  we  are  in  the  very  situation  to  acquire  the  virtue  of 
self-denial,  which  is  precious  in  the  Lord's  sight.  He  no 
doubt  put  us  there  expressly  for  that  purpose.  Let  us 
therefore  cheerfully  submit,  and  make  the  best  of  our 
adverse  lot. 

My  dear  Mary  will,  I  trust,  be  witling  to  profit  by  these 
hints  from 

Her  affectionate  friend. 


(   125  ) 

LETTER   XVI. 

On  Economy. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

One  of  the  duties  peculiarly  incumbent  upon  your  sex,  in 
most  situations  of  life,  is  the  direction  of  domestic  expendi- 
tures. Economy  is  both  a  virtue  and  an  art ;  but  in  either 
view,  it  is  a  dignified  and  important  branch  of  female  excel- 
lence. 

Perhaps  there  is  no  household  accomplishment  so  little 
cultivated  in  Virginia,  as  a  methodical  arrangement  of 
family  expenses.  Young  ladies  are  generally  brought  up  in 
utter  ignorance  of  pecuniary  transactions.  The  peculiar 
difficulties  attendant  on  most  southern  establishments,  occa- 
sions culpable  neglect  of  these  branches  of  female  education. 
The  heads  of  families  themselves  often  omit  regular  details 
of  domestic  expenditures,  and  therefore  it  cannot  be  expected 
that  young  girls  should  understand  what  is  neither  incul- 
cated by  precept  or  example.  Such  terrible  consequences 
have  arisen  from  these  flagrant  omissions,  that  the  southern 
people  are  beginning  to  recant  their  errors  j  and  it  is 
earnestly  to  be  hoped,  that  the  rising  generation  will  dili- 
gently cultivate  the  virtue  of  domestic  economy. 

I  think  it  absolutely  necessary  that  girls  should  be  skilful 
needle  women,  and  also  expert  in  the  tailorlike  arts  of  cutting 
and  fitting.  They  should  peactise  millinery  a  little,  at  least 
so  far  as  will  enable  them  to  dress  their  own  bonnets,  and 
occasionally  to  make  these  necessary  articles  for  themselves 
or  their  friends.  I  know  some  deserving  girls,  who  save  a 
considerable  sum  yearly  to  their  families,  by  practising  this 
art  in  their  own  domestic  circles.  In  cities  particularly, 
where  a  frequent  use  of  such  articles  occasions  considerable 
expense,  young  ladies  should  always  learn  to  do  up  and  dress 
Ju2 


126  LETTER  XVI. 

their  own  head  gear.  They  should  do  all  their  own  needle 
work,  besides  aiding,  as  circumstances  may  require,  in  the 
work  of  the  family  generally.  Let  no  one  suppose  that  these 
requisitions  are  unreasonable,  or  that  they  encroach  too 
much  on  the  department  of  mental  improvement.  Girls 
who  rise  early,  and  employ  their  time  methodically,  will 
find  the  day  sufficiently  long  for  all  rational  purposes.  There 
is  but  one  admissible  excuse  for  being  in  bed  after  sunrise, 
and  that  is,  an  actual  inability  to  rise  from  it,  because  of 
sickness. 

I  am  sorry  to  say,  that  many  young  ladies  contrive  to 
waste  a  great  deal  of  time  in  dressing;  that  is,  in  the  mere 
act  of  putting  on  their  clothes.  Do  not  overlook  this  error, 
•because  it  is  apparently  trifling.  Many  people  think  lightly 
of  faults  that  cannot  be  construed  into  positive  lapses  of 
morality;  but  this  is  a  great  mistake.  Small  errors,  of 
constant,  or  of  frequent  recurrence,  make  up,  collectively, 
enough  to  detract  seriously  from  the  sum  of  moral  worth. 
Suppose  you  were  in  the  habit  of  taking  half  an  hour  every 
day  in  dressing,  without  having  ever  considered  that  you 
might  do  this  daily  business  as  well  in  half  the  time.  Just 
make  a  calculation  of  the  time  to  be  saved  by  abridging 
this  operation,  and  ask  yourself  if  you  have  been  guiltless 
in  hitherto  persisting  in  such  a  waste  of  life?  I  am  sure  such 
a  reflection  would  fill  you  with  self-condemnation.  Then 
go  on  with  the  supposition,  that  the  time  so  thrown  away 
might  have  been  spent  in  study,  in  needle-work,  in  visiting 
the  sick,  in  earning  money  for  charity,  and,  best  of  all,  in 
prayer.  Do  you  not  think  it  worth  while  to  make  a  little 
exertion  at  once  to  redeem  your  future  days  from  such  an 
unnecessary  abridgement,  and  to  spend  the  redeemed  time 
in  some  one  of  the  improving  ways  already  suggested  ? 

There  are  nrany  other  ways,  besides  this,  of  economising 
time,  which  a  little  reflection  would  make  known  to  us. 
Each  individual  in  the  world  has  some  prevailing  mode  of 


LETTER  XVJ.  127 

shortening  existence,  which  perhaps  has  never  been  scruti- 
nized or  opposed.  Some  loiter  habitually  at  every  species 
of  labour,  so  as  to  dilate  the  simplest  task,  until  it  occupies 
twice  or  thrice  the  requisite  portion  of  time.  Some  others 
get  over  their  successive  operations  quickly  enough,  but 
they  make  intervals  between  each  employment,  by  pausing 
a  little,  merely  from  habit,  when  no  rest  is  necessary.  All 
these  little  defects  may  be  corrected  with  so  much  ease,  and 
with  so  much  benefit  to  individual  characters,  that  it  surely 
cannot  be  right  to  live  on,  regardless  of  such  practicable  and 
easy  modes  of  improving  morals  and  prolonging  life. 

Time  is  money,  according  to  Dr.  Franklin ;  and  I  have 
often  wondered  to  see  so  many  really  good  people  squander 
this  precious  possession  in  so  many  unconscious  ways. 

It  should  be  the  object  of  teachers,  not  only  to  instruct 
their  pupils  in  the  usual  branches  of  learning,  but  in  the 
methodical  distribution  of  time.  Some  teachers  suffer  their 
scholars  to  acquire  strange  tedious  methods  of  getting  their 
lessons,  and  never  seem  to  calculate  on  the  time  so  wasted. 
Surely  there  are  compendious  methods  of  doing  all  things; 
and  these  should  be  taught  regularly,  as  an  important  branch 
of  education.  Little  children  should  be  watched  in  their 
earliest  attempts  at  serious  occupation,  and  a  foundation 
laid  for  future  habits  of  diligence  and  celerity. 

With  regard  to  the  economy  of  money,  a  few  simple  rules 
will  suffice.  Young  ladies  should  always  have  a  specific 
allowance,  a  tenth  part  of  which  should  be  scrupulously 
appropriated  to  charitable  purposes.  This  is  so  seldom  prac- 
tised in  Virginia  families,  that  perhaps  most  parents  will  ad- 
here to  their  old  customs  in  this  particular.  The  expenses 
should  be  proportioned  to  the  circumstances,  as  the  shoe  to 
the  foot.  Vid.  Epictetus  Ench.  But  I  do  not  hesitate  to 
affirm,  that  the  pecuniary  derangements  so  common  at  this 
time  among  us,  has  arisen  from  an  utter  neglect  of  this  precau- 
tion.   Girls  are  allowed  to  spend,  not  in  proportion  to  their 


123  LETTER  XVI. 

father's  income,  but  in  proportion  to  their  own  wishes,  and 
his  measure  of  indulgence;  they  keep  no  accounts,  and 
cannot  even  guess  at  the  year's  end,  how  much  they  have 
expended  in  dress.  Surely  this  is  a  bad  way  of  preparing 
women  to  manage  for  themselves  in  the  arduous  post  of  second 
head  of  a  family.  I  know  ready  money  is  often  scarce  in  Vir- 
ginia families  ;  but  if  fathers  cannot  put  cash  into  the  hands 
of  their  daughters,  let  them  at  least  make  a  calculation  of 
what  portion  of  their  income  can  be  allowed  to  each  daughter, 
and  require  her  to  keep  her  expenses  within  those  bounds. 
Let  every  article  be  valued,  and  the  aggregate  sum  be  made 
known  at  the  end  of  the  year.  I  feel  certain  that  some 
young  ladies,  who  now  think  themselves  grpat  economists, 
(because  they  keep  no  accounts,)  would  find,  on  examina- 
tion, that  they  spend  more  than  they  think  they  do,  more  than 
is  really  necessary,  and  more  than  their  parents  can  afford. 

Virginia  girls  indulge  themselves  in  many  superfluities. 
Their  wardrobes  are  much  larger  than  they  ought  to  be. 
They  purchase  new  clothes,  not  when  they  really  want 
them,  but  when  they  see  any  thing  attractive  in  the  stores, 
or  on  their  neighbours.  Thus  they  accumulate  useless 
apparel,  until  their  supply  becomes  redundant,  and  they 
distribute  its  superfluities  among  the  poor  girls  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, thereby  feeding  the  passion  of  vanity,  and  exciting 
expensive  desires  in  their  fellow  creatures. 

I  once  heard  a  lady  extolled  over  a  whole  neighbourhood 
for  having  given  ball  dresses,  from  her  old  hoards,  to  five  or 
six  poor  girls.  I  verily  believe  this  act  of  thoughtless  pro- 
fusion gained  more  real  praise,  than  the  comfortable  cloihing 
of  double  the  number  of  helpless  poor  would  have  done. 

You  should  be  careful,  my  dear  Mary,  how  you  give  to  ■ 
the  poor  girls  around  you,  such  things  as  may  nourish  a 
taste  for  finery.    This  mischief  making  passion  has  destroyed 
as  many  women  as  the  vice  of  drunkenness  has  destroyed 
men.     From  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  its  influence  has 


LETTER  XVI.  129 

been  extending  ever  since  I  knew  the  world.  In  cities 
particularly,  this  insidious  evil  sheds  its  poison  in  almost 
every  bosom.  You  cannot  ascertain  the  degree  of  wealth 
really  existing  in  a  family  from  the  style  of  dress  prevailing 
within  its  precincts.  On  the  contrary,  those  who  can  least 
afford  these  extravagant  habits,  are  often  the  most  eager  to 
conceal  their  real  condition  from  the  world,  by  closely 
copying  the  style  of  their  superiors  in  wealth.  To  look  on 
the  females  congregated  for  purposes  of  fashionable  amuse- 
ment, you  would  suppose  that  the  most  perfect  equality 
existed  in  their  pecuniary  circumstances ;  when  perhaps 
(if  truth  could  be  divulged)  some  of  them  have  stinted  their 
families  in  realcomforts,  or  plunged  their  unhappy  parents 
into  debt,  by  the  purchase  of  their  decorations  for  that  very 
occasion. 

Alas,  when  will  the  female  sex  acquire  magnanimity 
enough  to  practise  rational  economy,  and  to  brave  the 
opinions  of  foolish  people,  by  ceasing  to  emulate  their 
superiors  in  wealth. 

But  the  mania  of  fashion  is  almost  universal.  Many 
persons  are  going  at  large  in  the  world  at  this  time,  whose 
minds  are  as  effectually  alienated  from  reason  by  this 
absorbing  passion,  as  those  of  the  tenants  of  the  lunatic 
hospital.  This  Moloch  of  cities  has  his  hecatombs  yearly 
sacrificed  on  his  altars,  and  is  worshipped  by  creatures 
formed  for  better  things. 

Oh,  could  women  rescue  their  reason  from  the  dominion 
of  this  tyrant,  how  brightly  might  they  shine  in  their 
appointed  sphere  of  action,  shedding  forth  light  and  warmth 
upon  the  hallowed  circle  of  domestic  peace,  fostering  virtue 
in  their  quiet  dominions,  and  imparting  the  dearest  enjoy- 
ments and  richest  blessings  of  life  to  their  companions  in 
bondage ! 

But  with  such  fair  opportunities  for  usefulness,  they  fly 
off  like  comets  from  their  appointed  orbits,  and  threaten 


130  LETTER  XVI. 

destruction  to  the  whole  social  system.  One  of  these  wan- 
dering stars  carries  mischief  and  confusion  in  her  train. 
She  sheds  a  mildew  upon  the  intellects  of  her  followers,  far 
worse  in  its  consequences,  than  the  fairy  spells  in  which  our 
progenitors  believed.  A  woman  who  is  spell  bound  in  the 
circle  of  fashion,  has  literally  thrown  off  the  dominion  of 
reason.  All  her  thoughts  are  governed  by  a  specious 
refinement  in  folly,  which  passes  current  for  exclusive  pro- 
priety among  her  admirers.  She  is  quoted  among  her 
satellites  as  the  umpire  of  taste.  They  feed  her  upon  flat- 
tery, until  she  becomes  like  the  queen  bee,  a  different  sort  of 
animal  from  the  rest  of  her  species.  She  passes  through 
life  without  ever  having  known  its  real  pleasures,  and  sinks 
inte  the  grave  before  she  has  made  the  discovery,  "  that 
from  dust  she  sprung,  and 'to  dust  she  must  return."  Her 
thoughts  have  never  descended  so  low,  as  to  touch  the  sur- 
face of  that  earth,  in  the  bosom  of  which  she  is  destined  to 
find  a  home. 

Religion  alone  teaches  man  the  nature  of  his  compound 
being.  Half  dust,  half  deity,  the  mystery  of  his  existence 
defies  all  lights,  save  that  of  revelation.  Philosophy  (which 
by  the  by  can  only  be  attained  by  the  chosen  few)  refers 
only  to  the  nature  of  the  soul.  It  teaches  man  to  moralize 
on  the  nature  of  his  immortal  part,  and  gives  him  rules  for 
governing  the  subtle  essence  of  thought,  without  referring  to 
the  constant  counteraction  of  the  mortal  frame.  Were  man 
all  soul,  philosophy  wrould  suit  him  admirably;  but  as  the 
case  really  stands,  something  more  is  requisite  than  phi- 
losophy professes  to  teach.  Religion  provides  for  the 
combined  exigencies  of  soul  and  body.  While  it  makes 
use  of  the  mind,  it  refers  constantly  to  the  mortal  part  of 
man.  It  provides  rules  and  restraints  for  those  propensi- 
ties which,  springing  from  the  sensual  department,  yet 
involve  inextricably  the  intellectual  principle.  Religion 
never  loses  sight  of  mortality,  but  labours  to  supply  aid  to 


LETTER  XVII.  131 

mortal  weakness,  while  it  affords  light  and  strength  to  the 
imperishable  essence  of  the  soul.  All  its  regulations  refer 
to  both  parts  of  man's  compound  being,  providing  equally 
for  the  two  dissimilar,  but  indissolubly  united  constituents  of 
human  existence.  And  well  it  is,  that  God  has  designed  to 
furnish  his  creatures  with  laws  adapted  to  their  peculiar 
exigencies.  He  alone  could  have  created  man,  and  he  alone 
can  teach  his  creatures  the  true  purposes  of  their  existence. 
May  these  few  serious  reflections,  draw  you  on  to  others 
equally  important,  my  dear  Mary. 

Believe  me  your  true  friend. 


LETTER  XYIT. 

Importance  of  Little  Things. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

It  is  a  maxim  with  some  people  to  disregard  trifles,  and 
truly  there  is  considerable  wisdom  in  one  application  of  this 
rule.  Many  persons  aggravate  their  allotted  trials,  by 
magnifying  slight  causes  of  annoyance,  until  they  make  up 
a  serious  sum  of  additional  evils.  Thus  we  sometimes  see 
females  so  full  of  superfluous  fears  and  morbid  anxieties, 
that  they  can  scarcely  be  said  to  enjoy  life  at  all.  One  is 
thrown  into  convulsions  of  terror  by  the  sight  of  a  mouse,  or 
a  spider.  Another  mars  all  the  enjoyment  of  a  rural  ram- 
ble in  summer,  by  her  dread  of  encountering  a  serpent  in 
the  grass.  Some  country  girls  are  afraid  to  pass  through  a 
field,  where  cattle  are  quietly  grazing.  Others  are  so  much 
afraid  of  lightning,  that  the  whole  summer  passes  over  with- 
out being  enjoyed  by  them. 

Now  these  trifles,  as  they  are  thought  by  those  who 


132  LETTER  XVII. 

indulge  them,  are  in  my  opinion  of  sufficient  importance  to 
be  subjected  to  the  control  of  reason.  It  is  one  of  the  curses 
denounced  upon  the  wicked  in  Scripture,  "  to  be  afraid 
where  no  fear  is."  I  know  some  ladies  who  are  so  much 
terrified  in  a  carriage,  that  it  is  a  pity  they  should  ever  need 
such  a  method  of  transportation. 

But  there  are  other  trifles  which  sometimes  annoy  fasti- 
dious ladies  exceedingly.  They  are  overcome  with  disgust 
upon  any  little  breach  of  delicacy  or  refinement  in  the 
unpolished  part  of  society.  They  have  their  comfort 
destroyed  by  a  peculiar  tone  of  voice,  or  mode  of  expression. 
Some  of  their  associates  are  given  to  certain  freedoms  of 
speech  or  manner,  which  overwhelm  them  with  disagreeable 
sensations.  These  delicate,  sensitive  people,  cannot  endure  to 
witness  human  suffering.  A  fellow  creature  might  be  in  the 
last  agonies,  and  they  would  leave  them  to  expire  unaided, 
rather  than  undergo  the  least  suffering  on  his  account.  It 
is  true,  that  these  evils  arise  from  small  beginnings ;  but 
that  very  reason  aggravates,  instead  of  extenuating  the  folly 
of  those  who  indulge  them.  For  if  the  propensity  is  slight 
at  the  commencement,  it  is  the  more  easy  to  subdue. 

But  self-indulgence  is  natural  to  the  unrenewed  heart. 
Those  persons  whose  sensibilities  are  easily  excited,  shrink 
from  such  scenes  as  are  calculated  to  excite  them,  without 
being  aware  that  duty  requires  them  to  subjugate  these 
unreasonable  excesses  of  feeling.  Women  are  in  their  pro- 
per sphere,  when  they  are  alleviating  human  suffering  by 
administering  remedies  to  disease  or  soothing,  the  bed  of 
sickness  by  tender  and  watchful  attentions. 

When  they  shrink  from  these  appropriate  duties,  on  the 
plea  of  inordinate  sensibility,  they  are  practising  culpable 
self-indulgence.  A  little  exertion  at  first,  will  overcome 
these  excesses  of  sympathetic  feeling,  and  qualify  the  gentle 
and  tender  sex  for  performing  offices  of  infinite  importance 
to  their  suffering  fellow  beings. 


LETTER  XVII.  I33 

I  have  known  women  whose  appearance  indicated  the 
extreme  of  feminine  delicacy,  and  even  cowardice,  who 
could  vie  with  the  most  robust  men  in  ministering  to  sick- 
ness and  suffering.  These  females  no  doubt  commenced 
their  career  of  usefulness  by  steadily  denying  themselves 
the  indulgence  of  their  sensibilities,  and  practising  severe 
self-command  when  their  sympathies  were  excited. 

But  I  will  allow,  that  there  are  other  trifles  in  this  world, 
which  it  behoves  us  to  cater  carefully  as  legitimate  means 
of  enjoyment.  These  are  sometimes  overlooked  by  those 
very  persons  who  allow  themselves  to  be  discomposed  by 
trifling  causes  of  discontent.  Women  may  add  materially 
to  the  sum  of  earthly  happiness,  by  gleaning  up  those  small 
sweet  courtesies  of  life,  which  often  escape  the  notice  of 
ambitious  spirits. 

Trifles  may  exhilarate  the  spirits,  and  move  the  soul  to  a 
moderate  degree  of  mirthful  enjoyment.  Trifles  may  unlock 
the  fountain  of  human  sympathies,  and  call  forth  refined 
and  delicate  sensations.  A  beautiful  flower,  a  refreshing 
breeze,  a  summer  shower  dimpling  the  crystal  stream,  or 
the  hush  of  its  falling  drops  on  the  broad  leaves  of  the  forest, 
may  awaken  feelings  of  exquisite  enjoyment. 

The  calm  beauties  of  a  summer  sunset,  the  appearance 
of  the  blue  heavens  reflected  in  some  immeasurable  depth 
of  waters,  the  evening  song  of  birds,  or  the  vivid  freshness 
of  dewy  morning — these,  and  the  thousand  lender  thoughts 
that  sweep  through  the  soul  when  we  meet  with  those  we 
love,  and  hear  the  first  greetings  of  affection, — even  the 
circle  around  the  hearth  in  winter,  which  gives  a  home 
breathing  sense  of  confiding  affection  :  All  these,  and  more 
than  my  pen  can  pourtray,  are  among  the  trifles  which  we 
may  legitimately  covet,  with  the  more  important  blessings 
of  life.  There  is  no  merit  in  rejecting  these  minor  pleasures. 
They  are  destined  to  fill  up  the  blanks  inevitably  occurring 
in  our  catalogue  of  earthly  joys.  They  keep  up  a  perennial 
M 


1 34  LETTER  XVII. 

flow  of  gratitude  to  heaven,  in  the  heart  that  recognizes  the 
omnipotent  Being  as  the  author  of  all  its  blessings.  They 
are  the  small  change  of  happiness,  and  should  be  counted 
among  the  golden  ingots  of  prosperous  life. 

Remember  then,  dear  Mary,  that  true  Christian  philo- 
sophy prompts  us  to  pass  over  all  obnoxious  trifles,  and  to 
gather  up  those  that  belong  to  human  happiness.  They 
are  but  fragments  from  some  divided  blessing,  and  are  as 
valuable  as  the  diamond  sparks  that  fall  from  the  chisel  of 
the  lapidary.  No  particle  of  genuine  good  should  be  lost, 
where  evil  is  ever  abounding.  Let  nothing  escape  you,  in 
catering  for  those  you  love,  my  dear  girl.  I  have  known 
happiness  most  skilfully  imparted  by  some  of  those  genuine 
spirits,  whose  benevolence  is  always  awake,  to  the  sick  and 
the  low  spirited,  by  a  careful  selection  of  these  unobtrusive 
occurrences. 

Some  persons  have  a  keen  perception  of  the  ridiculous, 
which  enables  them  to  extract  amusement  from  trifling 
absurdities.  This  talent  is  not  desirable ;  for  it  is  usually 
united  with  unamiable  qualities.  Yet  it  is  natural  for  even 
the  good-humoured  and  benevolent  to  laugh  at  a  ridiculous 
occurrence,  though  it  may  place  a  beloved  person  in  ludi- 
crous circumstances.  But  the  good-tempered  will  only 
laugh  spontaneously ;  the  ill-natured  will  drain  the  joke  to 
the  very  dregs;  and  enjoy  it  the  more  when  they  see  it 
gives  pain  to  others.  Nothing  can  be  a  surer  indication  of 
an  unamiable  heart,  than  a  propensity  to  dwell  on  disagree- 
able subjects,  before  those  to  whom  we  know  they  will  give 
pain.  Some  will  do  this,  even  to  their  friends.  But  a  good 
heart  will  shrink  from  inflicting  pain  on  an  open  and 
declared  enemy.  May  these  remarks  prove  both  agreeable 
and   useful   to  you,  dear  Mary :   be   assured   they  come 

from 

Your  true  friend. 


(   135  ) 

LETTER  XVIII. 

Sabbath  Privileges. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

And  who  shall  say  to  the  children  of  God,  that  the  day 
especially  appointed  for  heavenly  communion,  is  a  day  of 
tedium  and  weariness  ?  That  the  season  of  holy  rest  from 
the  toils  and  perplexities  of  life  is  unwelcome  to  the  way- 
worn pilgrim  ? 

None,  surely,  but  those  whose  hearts  have  never  glowed 
under  the  influence  of  divine  love,  nor  felt  the  blissful  secu- 
rity of  heavenly  protection.  But  the  Christian  feels  in  his 
heart's  core,  the  obligation  due  to  infinite  mercy,  for  the 
institution  of  the  Sabbath.  His  spirits  are  invigorated  by  a 
constant  dependance  on  that  mercy,  and  he  delights  in  the 
full,  free  exercise  of  all  his  spiritual  prerogatives.  As  the 
adopted  child  of  the  Most  High  Being,  he  enters  his  Father's 
presence  with  holy  joy,  for  it  is  there  only  that  he  fully 
participates  in  the  high  and  holy  privileges  annexed  to  his 
peculiar  condition.  To  unregenerate  beings,  these  feelings 
are  utterly  incomprehensible.  We  might  as  reasonably  call 
on  the  blind  man  to  admire  the  hues  of  the  rainbow,  as  on 
the  unconverted  man  to  participate  in  our  religious  enjoy- 
ments. These  things  are  spiritually  discerned;  and  until 
the  voice  of  Omnipotence  exclaims,  as  at  the  creation,  "Let 
there  be  light !"  the  mental  vision  is  without  the  power  of 
perception.  Some  Christians  reproach  their  unbelieving 
friends  for  not  enjoying  the  Sabbath.  Alas  !  they  should 
rather  pity  the  state  of  the  unregenerate,  and  intercede  on 
their  behalf  in  their  privileged  seasons  of  communion  with 
their  God.  That  dread  insensibility  to  holy  things,  which 
pervades  the  unconverted  soul,  should  awaken  our  keenest 
sympathy.     Most  of  us  can  remember  when  we  ourselves 


136  LETTER  XVIII. 

endured  the  same  self-inflicted  desolation.  All  of  us  should 
reflect,  that  the  work  of  regeneration,  which  we  have  expe- 
rienced, was  an  especial  and  unmerited  mercy.  The  same 
God  can,  in  his  own  time,  call  others  from  darkness  into 
light  as  he  called  us.  This  mercy  we  can  still  hope  for  and 
pray  for,  when  we  are  inclined  to  despond  over  the  be- 
nighted state  of  those  we  love.  Our's  is  the  religion  of  hope, 
and  every  address  to  heaven  recalls  to  our  minds  the  full 
value  of  the  unspeakable  gift  we  have  received,  and  awakens 
a  trust  which  banishes  every  preconceived  cause  of  fear, 
either  for  ourselves  or  for  others. 

Man,  in  his  natural  state,  has  a  will  confined  and  limited 
like  his  essence,  to  his  own  identity,  preferring  itself  to  all 
the  world,  and  to  God  himself.  From  this  distinct,  selfish 
will  of  the  creature,  arises  both  natural  and  moral  evil.  Its 
constant  craving  after  the  gratifications  of  its  instinctive 
wants,  produces  those  passions  which  deform  the  human 
character,  and  which  produce  (where  they  operate)  a  state 
of  anarchy  and  misery  resembling  the  punishment  of  the 
wicked  in  another  world.  But  when  God,  in  his  mercy, 
condescends  to  instil  into  his  creatures  any  portion  of  his 
own  benign  and  virtuous  will,  he  calls  forth  their  affections 
from  self,  and  diffuses  them  over  a  wider  circle.  By  this 
process  of  diffusion,  they  are  gradually  meliorated  and  sweet- 
ened, until  they  become  sources  of  rational  enjoyment. 

Short-sighted  reason  is  apt  to  wonder,  that  an  omnipotent 
and  infinitely  merciful  being  should  have  suffered  moral  evil 
to  deform  this  fair  creation  ;  but  when  we  recollect  that  the 
chief  end  of  this  very  creation  is  to  glorify  its  Author,  our 
wonder  must  cease.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  existence  of 
moral  evil,  the  creature  never  could  have  been  made  to  feel 
properly  its  dependence  upon  the  Creator.  Had  all  the 
heavenly  attributes  been  imparted  to  man,  even  in  subordi- 
nate measure,  he  would  have  claimed  equality  with  God,  as 
the  rebel  angels  did  in  heaven.     But  the  existence  of  sin 


LETTER  XVIir.  137 

holds  the  creature  in  due  subordination  to  the  Creator.     He 
can  punish,  and  he  can  pardon  ;  therefore,  both  fear  and 
love  are  exercised  towards  him.     Had  man  never  fallen, 
the  most  transcendant  attribute   of  Jehovah,   his   mercy, 
would  not  have  been  developed,  and  Christ  would   never 
have  descended  from  heaven  to  bless  the  earth  with  his 
presence.     The  existence   of  sin,  therefore,   has  brought 
fully  to  light  the  most  glorious  attributes  of  God,  and  re- 
deemed man  feels  a  love  and  adoration  for  him,  which  he 
could  not  have  rendered  to  any  thing  short  of  a  Saviour.  It 
is  to  him  we  owe  our  escape  from  final  misery  ;  therefore 
our  love  and  gratitude  are  perpetually  in  exercise  towards 
him  :  and  the  practice  of  these  virtuous  feelings  ennobles  and 
enlarges  our  nature.     Unregenerate  men  cannot  feel  these 
emotions  ;  their  thoughts  and  wishes  centre  in  self,  or  if  they 
diverge  from  that  rallying  point,  it  is  only  to  pursue  some 
modification  of  selfish  enjoyment,  a  little  farther  from  the 
soul's  abiding  place.     But  the  creature  could  not  have  been 
brought  to  comprehend  its  own  relative  situation  in  life,  had 
it  not  experienced  that  lapse  from  virtue  which  exposed  it 
to  the  just  wrath  of  its  Creator.     It  could  not,  otherwise, 
have  been  made  sensible  of  the  darkness  and  dependence  of 
its  creaturely  state,  nor  could  it  have  known  the  dreadful 
consequences  of  falling  off  from  God,  had  not  a  specific 
example  of  these  consequences  been  ordained  by  heavenly 
wisdom.     Thus  it  is  clear,  that  many  precious  blessings 
have  arisen  out  of  the  evils  incident  to  our  imperfect  state. 
God  has  been  reconciled  to  his  lapsed  creatures,  in  a  man- 
ner which  opens  all  the  sluices  of  virtuous  feeling  in  their 
hearts,  and  for  ever  establishes,  on  a  sure  foundation,  the 
nature   of  their   future   intercourse   with   their  reconciled 
parent.     The  convicted  sinner  dares  not,  and  he  desires 
not,  to  quit  that  being  who  has  taught  him  the  value  of  hea- 
venly mercy,  who  has  given  him  a  remedy  for  human  evil, 
and  opened  before  his  eyes  a  future  state  of  blessedness. 
m  2 


138  LETTER  XVin. 

To  Christians,  my  dear  Mary,  the  Sabbath  is  always 
welcome.  Whatever  may  be  their  worldly  pleasures,  the 
day  appointed  for  devotional  rest  is  hailed  with  joy,  for  it 
gives  them  time  to  pour  forth  their  tribute  of  grateful  adora- 
tion, without  infringing  on  worldly  duties.  The  Bible  is 
their  appropriate  study  on  that  day,  a  book  that  has  dissemi- 
nated more  truth,  and  wisdom,  and  peace,  than  all  the 
writings  of  genius  and  philosophy.  On  this  day,  the  rich 
and  prosperous  must  feel  the  worth  and  importance  of 
religion;  but  its  full  value  is  known  only  to  the  poor  and 
unfortunate.  What  would  the  ignorant  and  indigent  part  of 
mankind  have  done  with  philosophy  for  their  sole  guide,  a 
thing  utterly  unattainable  by  them  ?  I  am  convinced,  that 
people  of  the  higher  classes,  who  never  feel  the  weariness  of 
body  attendant  on  severe  labour,  have  not,  with  all  their 
refinement,  as  high  a  zest  for  the  holy  day  of  rest,  as  the 
pious  poor  are  blessed  with.  The  impartiality  of  God  is 
little  understood  by  his  creatures.  Many  of  them  think 
themselves  particularly  favoured  by  outward  circumstances, 
when  if  they  could  but  understand  the  feelings  of  the  hum- 
blest disciple,  with  the  scantest  portion  of  visible  good,  they 
would  find  an  equal  or  a  greater  measure  of  spiritual 
enjoyment. 

The  labouring  poor  require  bodily  as  well  as  mental  rest. 
This  doubtless  enhances  their  pleasurable  participation  of 
the  day  of  holy  leisure.  How  much  human  misery  is  pre- 
vented by  this  one  dhine  ordinance.  In  a  Christian  land, 
the  harshest  and  most  remorseless  tyrant,  dares  not  entirely 
deprive  his  dependant  or  his  slave  of  Sabbath  privileges. 
Public  opinion  restrains  even  the  vilest  despot  in  some  mea- 
sure, and  civil  institutions  require  some  attention  to  divine 
laws.  What  would  be  the  condition  of  the  lower  classes  of 
society,  if  mankind  were  left  to  their  own  choice  in  appoint- 
ing a  day  of  rest?     Small  indeed  would  be  the  portion  of 


LETTER  XVIII.  139 

time  allotted  to  the  exhausted  frame  of  the  slave  or  the  hired 
menial,  for  the  purpose  of  refreshing  worn  out  nature. 

But  to  the  Being  who  made  man,  and  ordained  that  he 
should  depend  chiefly  upon  his  Creator  for  every  mitigation 
of  the  penalties  of  guilt,  the  least  conspicuous  and  the  least 
attractive  being  in  the  universe,  is  as  important,  as  much 
under  his  guidance,  and  as  much  entitled  to  his  aid,  as  the 
monarch  on  his  throne. 

God  is  no  respecter  of  persons,  according  to  our  modes  of 
discrimination.  The  humblest  and  most  contrite  heart  is 
nearer  to  his  favour,  than  the  most  exalted  potentate  on 
earth. 

We  sometimes  complain  that  we  have  difficulty  in  enter- 
ing the  presence  of  our  heavenly  Father;  that  is  to  say,  we 
cannot  realize  his  presence  in  prayer,  by  a  lively  exercise  of 
faith.  This  difficulty  proceeds  from  our  habit  of  exalting, 
instead  of  depressing,  our  minds  during  actual  worship.  The 
Lord  dwells  in  heaven,  it  is  true;  and  we  think  it  necessary 
to  lift  up  our  thoughts,  before  they  can  find  him  in  his  exalted 
dwelling  place.  But  he  also  visits  the  lowly,  self-abased 
heart — the  meek  contrite  spirit.  Therefore,  we  shall  be 
more  certain  of  enjoying  his  presence  by  debasing,  than  by 
elevating  our  thoughts  in  the  season  of  prayer.  It  is  not 
always  necessary  to  feel  the  peace  which  passeth  under- 
standing in  our  devotions.  Some  people  thick  that  devout 
exercises  have  done  no  good,  unless  they  have  diffused  over 
our  souls  a  delightful  repose  of  spirit.  But  though  this  is  a 
transcendently  pleasant  state;  yet  if  we  remember  that  we 
are  still  weak  and  erring  creatures,  and  liable  to  daily  lapses 
from  virtue,  we  must  expect  to  feel  sorrow  for  detected  sin, 
and  remorse  for  continued  offences  against  heavenly  good- 
ness. If  we  always  felt  peace  during  our  devotions,  it  must 
necessarily  be  sometimes  a  false  peace  ;  for  as  we  still  sin, 
we  should  still  keep  up  the  exercise  of  repentance  within  us. 


140  LETTER  XIX. 

Therefore,  when  we  are  sorrowful  and  cast  down  with 
humiliation  in  the  season  of  prayer,  we  must  suppose  that 
the  Spirit  of  God  is  with  us,  as  much  as  when  he  conde- 
scends to  diffuse  peace  over  our  souls.  These  visitations  of 
the  Holy  Spirit  are  certainly  not  as  agreeable ;  but  for 
aught  we  know,  they  may  be  more  profitable  than  those 
delicious  feelings  which  sometimes  accompany  the  exercise 
of  prayer. 

Be  not  discouraged  then,  dear  Mary,  if  a  cloud  sometimes 
lowers  over  you  in  such  seasons.  It  may  be,  like  the  summer 
cloud,  dark  indeed  to  the  eye,  but  carrying  the  fertilizing 
shower  in  its  bosom. 

Ever  yours. 


LETTER  XIX. 

On  Conformity  of  Manners  to  the  Period  of  Life  which 
we  are  passing. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

There  are  peculiar  tastes  and  inclinations  attendant  on 
every  stage  of  human  existence,  and  I  may  add,  peculiar 
follies  and  faults.  Youth  may  be  vain,  thoughtless,  and 
dissipated.  Middle  age,  proud,  obstinate,  and  self-willed. 
Old  age,  avaricious,  peevish,  and  self-indulgent.  It  is  true 
that  these  foibles  sometimes  belong  indifferently  to  all 
periods,  and  are  indifferently  the  characteristics  of  young 
and  old  5  but  generally  speaking,  the  allotment  is  pretty 
much  according  to  my  enumeration.  People  are  very  apt 
to  imagine,  when  one  folly  makes  way  for  another  as  they 
advance  in  life,  that  they  are  getting  rid  of  their  besetting 
sins  by  the  natural  operation  of  time  upon  the  character. 
They  are  quick-sighted  enough  in  perceiving  the  departing 


LETTER  XIX.  141 

evil,  but  entirely  too  blind  to  discern  the  one  that  takes  its 
place.  Nay,  sometimes  they  give  themselves  great  credit 
for  having  conquered  some  predominant  fault,  when  it  has 
literally  died  a  natural  death. 

Women  are  peculiarly  prone  to  this  species  of  self-delu- 
sion, perhaps  because  they  love  to  take  credit  to  themselves 
whenever  they  can.  I  once  heard  a  lady  congratulate  her- 
self with  great  complacency  on  having  conquered  a  prevailing 
fondness  for  fine  clothes  ;  when  the  fact  was,  she  had  grown 
too  old  to  adorn  her  own  person,  and  had  transferred  the 
passion  to  another  department  of  self-indulgence.  She  laid 
out  all  her  money  in  fine  furniture,  and  adorned  her  house 
instead  of  her  person,  while  she  continued  to  spend  just  as 
much  on  the  one  folly  as  she  had  spent  on  the  other.  Some 
old  ladies  praise  themselves  wonderfully  for  personal 
economy,  when  all  the  time  they  lay  out  the  same  sums  on 
their  childern,  that  they  once  did  on  themselves. 

Women  who  live  in  large  cities,  particularly  who  move 
in  what  is  called  "  par  excellence"  the  first  circle,  (that  is, 
the  wealthiest,)  are  beset  with  one  folly  from  which  females 
in  the  country  are  happily  exempt;  I  mean,  the  habit  of 
prolonging  the  passion  for  personal  decoration,  far  beyond 
the  prescribed  limits  of  youth  or  middle  age.  It  is  difficult  to 
grow  old  with  dignity,  and  to  slide  gracefully  over  the  barriers 
erected  by  custom  between  the  different  periods  of  life. 

Some  females  exhaust  their  ingenuity  in  retaining,  or 
appearing  to  retain,  the  fugitive  graces  of  youth  long  after 
nature  has  dismissed  them  from  their  post.  Their  roses 
continue  to  bloom  over  the  mellow  tints  of  autumn,  and  even 
amid  the  frosts  of  wintry  age.  They  still  remain  votaries 
of  fashion,  and  worship  at  its  shrine  with  an  assiduity 
worthy  of  a  more  rational  service.  This  is  a  melancholy 
view  of  human  nature,  but  nevertheless  we  are  sometimes 
compelled  to  witness  it, 


142  LETTER  XIX. 

I  was  one  day  walking  the  streets  of  a  city,  when  I  per- 
ceived just  before  me  an  exceedingly  juvenile  figure  enve- 
loped in  a  cloud  of  rose-coloured  drapery,  with  towering 
plumes  in  her  wide  spread  bonnet.  I  followed  her  elastic 
movements  some  distance  down  the  street,  when  she  sudden- 
ly turned  and  disclosed  to  me,  not  the  bloom  and  dimples  of 
fifteen  as  I  had  anticipated,  but  a  face  that  I  well  know  had 
reckoned  more  that  fifty  winters.  A  quantity  of  artificial 
curls  and  rich  lace  softened  the  effect  of  age  considerably  in 
her  face,  but  there  were  distinct  traces  of  the  heavy  foot- 
steps of  time,  in  what  had  once  been  dimples,  notwithstand- 
ing the  almost  natural  roses  that  slept  in  those  little  dells 
within  her  cheeks.  But  she  had  that  cold,  rigid  look  that 
late  hours,  and  mispent  days,  invariably  give  the  faded,  jaded 
votary  of  fashion.  Her  eyes  were  dim  and  sunken,  yet 
there  were  signs  which  plainly  indicated  that  their  fires 
could  be  still  recalled  to  give  interest  to  her  countenance, 
when  she  wished  to  put  forth  the  relics  of  her  charms. 
A  near-sighted  glass  hung  dangling  to  a  chain  around  her 
neck.  Had  I  seen  this  lady  suitably  dressed,  in  grave 
colours,  without  flounces  and  feathers,  with  a  matronly 
cap  surmounted  honestly  by  a  pair  of  spectacles,  I  should 
have  felt  much  more  respect  for  her  character,  than  I 
did  under  the  appearances  I  have  described.  Her  dress 
was  an  index  to  her  mind,  and  I  certainly  perused  nothing 
in  that  table  of  contents,  which  made  me  wish  to  unclose 
the  volume,  and  penetrate  deeper  into  her  intellectual 
resources. 

Time  inevitably  bears  away  personal  graces ;  but  it  gives 
to  the  mind  what  it  takes  from  the  body,  if  proper  use  is 
made  of  the  opportunities  possessed  by  rational  beings. 
Female  beauty  is  indeed  evanescent;  but  it  is  truly  melan- 
choly to  observe  the  ingenuity  that  is  wasted  on  endeavours 
to  prolong  its  natural  term  of  existence.     If  half  that  inge- 


LETTER  XIX.  J  43 

nuity  were  used  in  another  way,  namely,  in  furnishing  the 
mind  with  appropriate  graces,  those  of  the  body  would  pass 
away  without  regret,  for  their  place  would  be  supplied  by 
far  better  things.  Nothing  gives  a  more  unfavourable  opinion 
of  a  lady's  understanding,  than  an  insight  into  those  little 
futile  expedients  so  commonly  used  to  veil  the  ravages  made 
by  time  on  the  human  lineaments.  A  truly  sensible,  and 
above  all,  a  pious  woman,  never  shrinks  from  disclosing  to 
the  world  every  token  of  her  progress  towards  the  final  con- 
summation of  all  things.  She  never,  for  an  instant,  suffers  her 
mind  to  soar  above  that  earth  in  whose  bosom  she  will  one 
day  repose ;  except  when  her  thoughts  go  before  her  into 
that  heaven,  which  is  to  be  the  home  of  her  soul.  A  truly 
wise  person  always  retains  a  perception  of  the  relative  value 
of  the  two  portions  of  his  being.  He  ever  keeps  in  mind 
that  the  one  is  to  perish  inevitably,  and  the  other  to  exist 
for  ever.  Therefore,  all  his  rational  powers  are  exerted  to 
prepare  his  soul  for  its  immortal  doom,  while  his  body  is 
just  kept  as  comfortable  as  circumstances  will  allow  during 
its  little  span  of  existence.  But  the  generality  of  mankind 
reverse  this  rule,  and  foster  the  frame  of  dust,  as  if  its  value 
was  greater  than  that  of  the  never-dying  spirit.  They  pam- 
per it  with  luxury,  and  adorn  its  exterior,  without  at  all 
remembering  its  final  destination. 

I  would  advise  you,  my  dear  Mary,  to  keep  in  view, 
always,  the  perishing  nature  of  your  mortal  body,  and  not 
to  waste  upon  it  more  than  is  absolutely  essential  to  decency 
and  comfort,  either  in  food  or  clothing.  But  you  must,  of 
course,  make  allowances  for  the  different  situations  in  life, 
and  consider  the  exact  degree  of  personal  economy  that  can 
be  practised,  without  incurring  the  charge  of  strangeness  and 
oddity.  An  example,  to  be  really  useful,  must  not  be 
exaggerated,  or  unreasonable  in  its  requisitions  upon  public 
opinion.  Too  much  innovation  on  established  practices 
will  excite  ridicule,  and  open  the  way  for  the  charge  of 


144  LETTER  XIX. 

enthusiasm,  a  thing  much  deprecated  by  narrow-minded 
people  who  do  not  understand  the  term,  and  are  not  aware 
that  a  well  directed  zeal  opens  many  paths  to  usefulness, 
which  common  plodders  in  the  beaten  track  of  custom  would 
never  have  discovered. 

But  there  is  an  enthusiasm  that  is  really  dangerous  to  the 
interests  of  the  cause  it  advocates.  When  a  weak  head  is 
acted  upon  by  strong  passions,  and  a  vivid  imagination,  it 
sometimes  devises  expedients  utterly  impracticable  as  gene- 
ral rules,  and  perhaps  so  strange  in  their  nature,  as  to 
excite  the  ridicule  of  ordinary  minds.  And  the  enemies  of 
religion  are  never  better  pleased,  than  when  they  can  affix 
the  charge  of  imprudent  and  enthusiastic  zeal  to  the  active 
followers  of  Christ.  It  is  their  invariable  rule  to  transfer 
the  faults  of  professors  to  the  principle  they  profess,  and 
thus  religion  bears  the  stigma  of  every  error  committed  by 
those  who  advocate  its  doctrines.  This  should  make  Chris- 
tians particularly  careful  to  govern  their  practice  by  reason, 
and  to  refrain  from  what  is  obnoxious  to  the  world,  in 
every  point  where  such  reservations  are  conscientiously 
practicable. 

I  once  knew  a  very  pious  lady,  whose  abhorrence  of  all 
waste  and  luxury  in  apparel  was  so  great,  that  she  would 
not  let  her  infants  wear  any  sort  of  a  border  to  their  caps. 
Her  husband  was  wealthy,  and  he  purchased  for  her  a  car- 
riage, which,  on  its  arrival,  proved  far  too  handsome  and 
costly  for  her  use.  One  of  her  friends  offered  to  change 
with  her,  and  she  actually  consented  to  give  her  handsome 
new  equipage  for  an  old,  rusty  carriage,  that  had  been  many 
years  in  use. 

These  two  examples,  though  they  came  from  one  who 
was  beloved  and  respected  for  her  true  piety,  yet  made 
rather  an  unfavourable  impression  on  society.  Religion  is 
the  scape-goat  with  worldly  people,  who  cast  on  its  devoted 
head,  all  the  offences  committed  by  mistaken  zeal,  or  hike- 


LETTER  XX.  145 

warm  faith,  or  hypocritical  profession.  They  affect  to  think 
that  Christians  profess  to  become  perfect,  as  soon  as  they 
enlist  under  the  banner  of  Christ,  and  therefore  they  take 
upon  themselves  to  prove  that  this  is  a  mistake.  In  proving 
this,  they  drag  in  all  the  evil  deeds  of  nominal  professors, 
and  of  sincere,  but  young  and  weak  Christians.  Now  it  is  a 
little  hard,  that  the  world  will  not  understand  our  funda- 
mental doctrine ;  namely,  that  man  is  a  sinner,  and  that 
religion  must  operate  a  long  time  on  his  character  before 
he  can  attain  any  sort  of  moral  worth.  But  enough  of  what 
every  body  knows  full  well  already.  I  advise  you,  my  dear 
girl,  to  glide  gently  through  your  appointed  term  of  life, 
resigning  successively,  such  pursuits  as  are  unsuited  to 
declining  years. 

Bear  ever  in  mind,  that  death  is  inevitable.  Reflect  on 
this  subject  habitually,  and  you  will  soon  cease  to  be  over- 
awed by  it.  Death  ought  not  to  be  an  appalling  subject  to 
the  Christian.  If  it  is  so  with  you,  be  assured  that  some- 
thing is  wrong  in  your  mind.  Seek  out  this  something,  and 
pray  over  it,  until  you  can  endure  to  think  of  your  latter 
end  without  alarm. 

I  am  truly  yours. 


LETTER  XX. 

On  the  Distribution  of  Time, 

My  Dear  Maky, 

There  is  nothing  more  important  to  a  female,  than  the 

habit  of  distributing  her  time  among  her  many  avocations, 

so  as  to  give  to  each  one  its  allotted  share,  and  no  more. 

The  period  assigned  to  education  is  so  short,  with  your  sex, 

N 


146  LETTER  XX. 

and  custom  sanctions  their  attempting  so  many  acquisitions, 
that  I  fear,  with  all  possible  industry  and  method,  they 
must  fail  in  some  of  their  undertakings.  Again,  when 
women  marry,  their  occupations  are  so  various,  their  duties 
so  comprehensive,  (at  least  in  our  southern  country,)  that  it 
is  difficult  for  the  most  active  and  diligent  to  perform  thera 
all  satisfactorily.  I  have  felt  deep  compassion  for  young 
women,  when  they  have  found  themselves  suddenly,  and  as 
if  unexpectedly  thronged  with  occupations,  so  various  and 
so  uncongenial  with  taste  and  habit,  that  their  strength  has 
failed  under  the  burden. 

This  happens  not  unfrequently  among  us  in  the  present 
day,  in  consequence  of  our  very  erroneous  methods  of 
female  education.  Our  young  women  are  put  to  school  for 
a  few  years,  during  which  they  acquire  a  mere  smattering 
of  various  fashionable  accomplishments,  without  consulting 
nature  or  taste.  They  come  home  with  a  taste  for  dress, 
and  sometimes  for  dissipation  ;  a  thorough  repugnance  to 
homely  occupation,  and  a  great  relish  for  sentimental  read- 
ing and  conversation.  By  and  by  they  marry,  and  for  a 
short  period,  the  romance  of  their  situation  maintains  the 
freshness  of  feeling  and  a  zest  for  life ;  but  presently  an 
avalanche  of  care  comes  in  the  form  of  household  and  mater- 
nal duties.  The  poor  victim  struggles  with  her  adverse 
destiny  for  a  time,  and  gleans  from  the  multitude  of  her 
employments  such  as  are  best  suited  to  her  taste,  while  she 
gives  her  energies  honestly  to  the  discharge  of  her  duties. 
But  every  thing  in  this  department  is  new  to  her.  She  mis- 
manages her  children  and  servants  from  sheer  ignorance. 
Her  temper  is  soured,  and  her  health  affected,  so  that  a  few 
brief  years  of  this  sort  of  martyrdom  often  transforms  the 
blooming,  joyous  girl,  sportive  as  the  summer  bird,  into  a 
melancholy,  moping,  sad-visaged  matron,  with  whom  life 
is  dull,  flat,  and  unprofitable,  even  in  its  spring  tide. 

This  is  a  melancholy,  but  a  faithful  picture.    Let  us  turn 


LETTER  XX.  147 

from  it  to  contemplate  what  may  be,  when  mothers  recover 
from  the  epidemic  mania  of  having  accomplished  daugh- 
ters. At  present,  they  educate  their  children  as  they  build 
their  houses,  after  some  plan  of  beauty,  without  reference  to 
utility.  They  forget  that  the  houses  are  to  live  in,  and  the 
children  to  be  made  subservient  in  some  way  to  the  rational 
purposes  of  existence.  All  future  views  are  lost  in  the 
present  gratification  of  having  something  to  admire  them- 
selves, and  to  attract  admiration  from  others. 

People  forget  that  their  children  are  not  playthings,  but 
accountable  beings.  When  they  remember  this  important 
fact,  and  act  accordingly,  all  things  will  be  rectified. 

Those  who  have  many  things  to  do,  may  by  diligent  prac- 
tice acquire  the  habit  of  gliding  from  one  occupation  to 
another,  without  stopping  between  them.  Some  heads  of 
families  are  always  deficient  in  some  part  of  their  routine  of 
duty,  and  this  evidently  arises  from  want  of  method  in 
arranging  their  different  employments. 

We  should  always  bear  in  mind  the  value  of  time,  as  a 
talent  intrusted  to  us  by  supreme  Wisdom,  for  the  purpose 
of  promoting  his  glory.  There  is  a  portion  of  every  life 
laid  waste  by  unavoidable  causes :  Sickness,  that  inevitable 
impediment  to  pleasure  and  profit ;  weariness  of  spirit 
from  disappointed  hope,  or  that  deep  sorrow  of  heart  which 
paralyzes  every  feeling.  In  short,  each  individual  has  some 
peculiar  disqualifying  circumstance  to  contend  with,  in 
making  the  most  of  his  little  span  of  human  existence. 

One  of  the  greatest  of  these  evils,  is  a  certain  nameless 
state  of  mind  and  body,  a  sort  of  contest  between  the  flesh 
and  the  spirit,  which  seems  to  monopolize  both,  to  the 
exclusion  of  all  customary  sensations.  It  would  be  terrible 
indeed  were  this  habit  to  extend  itself  over  the  rational 
faculties,  so  as  to  chain  them  in  its  spell.  But  fortunately 
this  state  of  feeling  is  so  unpleasant,  that  every  one  knows 


148  LETTER  XX. 

how  to  struggle  against  the  incubus,   with    every  power 
which  can  be  arrayed  against  it. 

I  was  much  pleased  in  conversing  with  the  daughter  of 
my  friend  Emilia,  to  find  that  she  had  laboured  successfully 
in  forming  a  methodical  arrangement  of  her  time.  I 
observed  a  book  in  her  work-basket  one  day,  when  she  was 
sitting  near  me,  and  on  asking  what  she  was  studying,  she 
told  me  that  it  was  her  custom  to  have  some  useful  author 
always  at  hand  to  fill  up  the  spare  fragments  of  her  time. 

u  I  always  find,"  said  she,  "  some  little  interval  between 
the  changes  from  one  occupation  to  another :  this  is  what 
is  generally  called  l  loitering  time,'  and  I  do  not  see  why 
such  (  fragments  may  not  be  gathered  up,  so  that  nothing 
may  be  lost.' 

a  I  generally  keep  in  my  basket  some  serious  book,  from 
each  sentence  of  which  may  be  gleaned  some  salutary 
instruction.  A  moment  suffices  to  take  a  text  for  one's 
thoughts  while  walking  to  and  fro,  or  sitting  still  at  needle- 
work. Nothing  tends  to  improve  the  mind  more  than 
watchfulness  over  the  thoughts,  to  keep  them  from  running 
after  unprofitable  subjects.  Few  persons  reflect  seriously 
on  the  habitual  occupation  of  their  thoughts.  If  they  were 
to  scan  their  own  reflections  closely,,  they  would  often  be 
startled  at  the  dreadful  misrule  which  prevails  in  the  intel- 
lectual realm.  There  is  great  benefit,  too,  in  systematic 
reflection  on  the  subject  of  death.  I  used  once  to  be  a 
coward  under  bodily  pain,  but  I  soon  learned  that  sickness, 
rightly  considered,  was  a  season  of  improvement;  and  this 
comforted  me  under  some  otherwise  very  afflicting  dispen- 
sations. I  now  struggle  against  bodily  pain  as  long  as  I 
can;  but  when  it  casts  me  down,  I  endeavour  to  profit  by 
the  humiliation.  I  think  of  the  time  when  the  frame  will 
be  dissolved  into  the  elements  that  it  is  composed  of,  and 
the  imperishable  spirit,   released  from  its   moorings,   will 


LETTER  XX.  '  149 

enter  the  realms  of  bliss.  I  consider  every  season  of  bodily 
prostration  as  a  message  or  warning  to  the  soul,  to  loosen  its 
hold  on  the  things  of  time,  that  its  grasp  may  not  be  too 
rudely  shaken  off  in  the  last  conflict.  Such  reflections  are 
at  first  awful ;  but  after  a  while  they  become  sweetly  soothing. 
The  spirit  holds  closer  communion  with  its  God,  when  the 
walls  of  its  clay  tabernacle  are  shaking  under  the  earth- 
quake which  is  destined  finally  to  overthrow  it.  Then  the 
Lord  appears  as  he  did  when  he  put  forth  his  hand  to  Peter, 
to  still  the  shrinking  tremors  of  his  spirit."  These  obser- 
vations were  doubly  interesting  to  me,  you  may  suppose, 
when  I  contemplated  the  blooming  youth  of  the  person  who 
made  them.  Scarce  treading  the  threshold  of  busy  life,  h»er 
fresh  and  unwearied  spirit  had  soared  away  on  the  wings  of 
faith,  to  anticipate  the  glories  of  eternity. 

I  learnt  from  Emma,  that  she  was  indebted  to  Miss 
Hannah  More's  works  for  some  of  her  most  lucid  views  of 
divine  truth.  "  That  venerable  mother  in  Israel,"  said  she, 
has  disseminated  scriptural  truth  widely  and  clearly  through 
the  world.  Her  '  Practical  Piety,'  and  l  Christian  Morals,' 
have  done  incalculable  good  to  the  cause  of  religion.  Her 
chapter  on  Small  Faults  and  Virtues  searches  the  human 
heart  to  its  inmost  depths.  I  glean  from  this  magazine  of 
pious  maxims  many  valuable  thoughts  to  fill  up  my  medita- 
tive hours. 

"Miss  More's  style  is  objected  to  by  many  persons,  but 
to  me  it  has  peculiar  utility,  as  it  does  not  abstract  my 
attention  from  the  pure  and  salutary  lessons  of  wisdom,  of 
which  it  is  the  vehicle.  Her  chapter  on  e  Self-examination* 
opens  every  avenue  of  the  mind  to  full  and  free  investigation. 
I  read  it  generally  once  a  month,  and  treasure  up  its  maxims 
as  rules  for  practice." 

This  eulogium  upon  my  friend  and  guide,  Miss  More, 
gave  me  great  pleasure.     Some  people  complain  that  all 
abstract  morality  is  dry,  and  hers  peculiarly  so,  from  the 
n2 


150  LETTER  XX. 

measured  monotony  of  the  style.  But  her  expositions  of 
scripture  morals  are  so  pure  and  clear,  and  at  the  same  time 
so  comprehensive,  that  they  apply  to  every  possible  exigency 
of  human  life.  I  cannot  offer  you  a  better  guide,  my  dear 
Mary,  in  your  researches  after  divine  truth  and  practical 
wisdom,  than  the  writings  of  this  truly  evangelical  woman. 
Procure  a  copy  of  them,  (there  is  one  just  published,  both 
full  and  cheap,)  make  it  the  associate  of  your  Bible,  and 
read  a  portion  of  her  wisdom  along  with  the  sacred  volume. 
Young  Christians  must  beware  of  turning  aside  from  reli- 
gious books,  even  to  works  of  science,  and  interesting  history 
or  biography.  The  graces  of  the  christian  character  must 
be  sedulously  cultivated,  or  they  will  languish,  for  human 
nature  is  not  their  favourite  soil.  As  well  might  you  expect 
your  garden  to  yield  abundant  fruits  and  vegetables  with  no 
more  culture  than  simply  scattering  the  seed,  as  to  look  for 
the  lively  product  of  faith  from  a  heart  choked  up  with  the 
trash  and  rubbish  of  the  world.  Read  the  biography  of 
pious  women  with  attention ;  procure  the  Memoirs  of  Mrs. 
Graham,  Lady  Glenarchy,  Mrs.  Huntington,  Mrs.  Ramsay, 
Mrs.  Judson,  Miss  Smelt;  and  also  the  biography  of  pious 
men,  such  as  JNewton,  Scott,  Legh  Richmond,  Urquhart, 
Buchanan,  Henry  Martyn,  and  Henry  Kirk  White.  Let 
these  books  be  the  constant  themes  of  your  thoughts.  To 
these  add  Mason  on  Self-Knowledge,  Baxter's  Saint's  Rest, 
Doddridge's  Rise  and  Progress,  Dnvight's  Theology,  Wilber- 
force's  Practical  View  of  Christianity,  Davies'  Sermons, 
Irving  and  Chalmers,  with  some  others,  and  you  will  have 
a  rich  mine  of  intellectual  and  spiritual  wealth,  of  far  more 
value  than  the  wealth  of  Golconda  or  Peru. 

Adieu  for  the  present. 


(  151   ) 


LETTER  XXI. 

Manners  the  Result  of  Intellectual  Cultivation, 

My  Dear  Mary, 

In  all  the  old  fashioned  works  intended  exclusively  for 
female  improvement,  you  will  find  specific  rules  for  female 
manners  and  behaviour,  drawn  up  with  methodical  gravity. 
But  this  department  of  our  education  is  now  left  to  result 
from  the  general  effect  of  mental  improvement.  Women 
are  not  told  how  they  must  look,  and  sit,  and  walk;  but 
they  are  first  supplied  with  ideas,  and  then  expected  to  find 
out  their  own  modes  and  fashions  of  behaviour.  To  give  a 
girl  explicit  rules  for  exterior  deportment  would  be  to  make 
her  a  thing  of  artifice — a  very  automaton.  This  is  an  age 
of  better  taste,  and  accordingly  the  manners  of  women  are 
left  to  establish  themselves,  not  after  any  formal  model,  but 
as  individual  taste  may  direct.  Yet  in  a  work  professedly 
intended  to  give  rules  of  feminine  propriety,  it  may  not  be 
proper  wholly  to  omit  directions  for  the  exterior  deportment 
of  the  sex. 

All  affectation  is  in  bad  taste,  and  if  it  interests  and 
pleases  at  all,  it  must  be  among  persons  of  singularly  bad 
gout  in  female  manners.  Generally  speaking,  the  effect  of 
such  things  does  not  repay  one  for  the  trouble  of  being 
laboriously  artificial.  All  acting  is  tiresome,  and  then  there 
is  always  a  risk  of  sliding  imperceptibly  into  natural  man- 
ners, or  falling  abruptly  into  old  familiar  movements,  which 
produce  a  very  incongruous  effect.  Better  be  always  natural 
than  incur  the  risk  of  being  unmasked  before  the  world. 
Sprightly  girls  should  carefully  guard  against  levity,  and  grave 
ones  against  an  excess  of  reserve.  The  first  is  the  worst  and 
the  most  common  extreme ;  but  it  is  wrong  to  let  cheerful- 
ness degenerate  into  boisterous  mirth.     Those  who  are 


152  LETTER  XXI. 

extravagantly  gay  at  one  time,  are  generally  proportionably 
dull  at  another.  Nothing  is  more  desirable  than  equable 
spirits.  Do  not  suppose  that  the  spirits  are  to  be  left  to 
their  natural  tendency.  They  require  some  discipline  to 
bring  them  within  the  bounds  of  reason  and  christian  pro- 
priety. A  very  gay  temper  requires  to  be  chastened  into 
becoming  sobriety.  A  solemn  mood,  on  the  other  hand, 
must  be  encouraged  to  relax  into  moderate  cheerfulness. 

Youthful  gaiety  of  heart  is  very  fascinating  before  it  loses  its 
vernal  freshness;  but  enough  usually  befalls  the  sex  between 
the  cradle  and  the  hymeneal  altar,  to  still  the  wild  tumult  of 
animal  excitement.  And  this  is  not  amiss,  though  we  are 
tempted  into  sentimental  distress  on  the  subject,  when  we 
consider  it  superficially.  Juvenile  gaiety  is  something  like 
the  laughter  which  Solomon  compares  to  the  crackling  of 
thorns  under  a  pot.  There  is  more  imaginary  than  real 
attraction  in  it.  The  world  does  not  furnish  legitimate  fuel 
for  the  blaze  of  youthful  spirits.  The  sooner  therefore  it 
subsides  into  rational  cheerfulness,  the  better  for  all  parties. 
That  sort  of  gaiety  is  rarely  intellectual,  and  we  should 
never  encourage  a  frame  of  mind  that  stifles  the  operations 
of  the  intellectual  powers. 

The  intercouse  between  young  persons  of  both  sexes  is 
now  established  on  its  proper  footing.  It  is  as  free  and  easy 
as  is  consistent  with  delicacy  and  propriety.  There  is  an 
opportunity  afforded  for  that  reciprocation  of  thoughts  and 
feelings,  which  constitutes  the  charm  of  social  life.  The 
two  portions  of  the  human  species  learn  to  respect  and 
appreciate  each  other.  Men  learn,  that  if  women  are  not 
equal  to  them  in  science  and  knowledge,  they  at  least  possess 
intellectuality  enough  to  qualify  them  for  intimate  friends, 
and  agreeable  associates. 

The  two  sexes  assimilate  in  taste  and  sentiments ;  they 
become  imperceptibly  prepared  for  living  happily  together 
in  the  most  intimate  of  all  unions ;  and  each  party  finds 


LETTER  XXr.  153 

charms  in  the  other  which  they  want  in  themselves.  A 
well  educated  girl  makes  a  charming  companion  for  an 
amiable  well  principled  youth  just  released  from  the 
tedium  and  monotony  of  scholastic  duties.  His  mental 
powers  are  refreshed  by  the  vernal  flow  of  unsophisticated 
feelings.  His  tastes  are  cultivated  by  a  contact  with  the 
pure  polish  of  feminine  manners.  She  learns  from  him 
many  useful  facts,  and  imparts  to  him  in  return  many  pure 
and  verdant  thoughts,  just  from  the  fresh  coinage  of  nature's 
mint.  All  this  is  delightful.  Love  arising  from  such  an 
intercourse  is  as  pure  as  human  nature  can  prompt. 

The  destiny  of  a  whole  life  sometimes  takes  its  hues  from 
a  few  moments  of  such  intercourse  as  I  have  described.  An 
attachment  so  formed  is  replete  with  pure  sentiment  and 
disinterested  esteem  ;  it  grows  out  of  the  soundest  and  fresh- 
est portion  of  the  human  character.  The  heart  has  not  had 
time  to  contract  itself;  the  world  is  new  and  carries  home 
no  sickening  consciousness  of  disappointment  and  delusion 
to  the  bosom.  Hope  raises  her  standard  amidst  a  throng  of 
juvenile  projects  for  warding  off  the  penalties  of  humanity. 
Disappointment  will  come,  to  be  sure,  but  not  before  the 
soul  has  tasted  some  of  the  good  things  of  this  imperfect 
state.  The  heart  grows  old  in  experience  from  witnessing 
the  troubles  of  others,  and  narrows  its  sphere  of  expectations 
before  the  blessings  of  life  begin  to  fail.  And  it  does  this 
without  becoming  sour  and  morose.  There  is  still  a  little 
hoard  of  untainted  feeling  in  its  secret  shrine,  where  the 
frost-blight  of  selfishness  has  never  penetrated.  Then  when 
religion  adds  its  blessed  influence  to  the  lessons  of  wisdom 
and  experience,  the  heart  wonders  that  it  should  ever  have 
anticipated  vacuity,  or  dreaded  monotony. 

I  heed  not  the  hackneyed  opinion,  that  youth  is  exclu- 
sively the  happiest  season  of  life.  It  is  not  always  so.  With 
many  individuals  it  is  far  too  busy  with  tumultuous  feelings, 
and  too  boisterous  with  unrestrained  passions,  to  admit  of 


154  LETTER  XXI. 

happiness.  It  is  too  poignant  in  hope,  and  eager  in  expecta- 
tion, for  any  earthly  joy  to  yield  real  gratification.     Then 
the  want  of  self-command,  and  experience  in  the  ways  of 
life  are  constantly  inducing  errors,  from  which  the  heart 
shrinks,  without  being  able  to  avoid  them.     Happiness  is 
a  tranquil  sentiment,  and  youth  is  rarely  tranquil.     Besides, 
at  that  season,  the  heart  has  not  become  inured  to  the  treat- 
ment of  a  selfish  world.     All  the  freshest  feelings  of  un- 
blighted  affection,  and  the  buoyant  soarings  of  ardent  hope, 
are  sent  forth  confidingly  into  that  icy  region  from  which 
they  return  cowed  and  chastened  to  the  chilled  and  wound- 
ed bosom.     By  and  by,  experience  teaches  that  little  is  to 
be  gained  in  a  liberal  intercourse  of  thought  and  feeling  with 
people   who  have  learnt  to  take  all  they  can  get,  and  to 
return  nothing  in  exchange  for  disinterested  affection.     A 
cloud   gathers  over  the  gay  prospects  of  youth,  and  the 
heart  learns  to  dispense  its  treasures  less  prodigally  for  the 
future. 

Religion  is  exactly  adapted  to  the  exigencies  of  the  soul 
at  this  crisis.  Those  affections  which  have  been  rejected 
by  a  selfish  world,  are  offered  at  a  worthier  shrine,  and 
received,  with  all  their  imperfections,  by  omnipotent  mercy. 
How  indescribably  soothing  are  the  first  breathings  of  the 
spirit  of  divine  love  upon  the  chastened  spirit  of  man  !  Re- 
jected by  our  fellow  worms,  we  find  ourselves  accepted  by 
a  pure  and  sinless  God.  The  dove  of  peace  descends,  and 
broods  over  the  troubled  waters  of  human  passion,  calling 
from  the  deep  recesses  of  the  bosom,  the  chilled  and  blighted 
affections,  to  offer  them  at  the  holy  shrine  of  almighty  love. 
May  you,  my  dear  girl,  experience  all  these  blessed  emo- 
tions, without  having  to  endure  a  previous  conflict  with 
worldly  disappointments.  When  religion  is  entwined  with 
the  first  feelings  of  youth  by  early  and  skilful  culture,  the 
heart  is  spared  the  chastening  of  worldly  disappointment. 
Its  first  yearnings  are  after  higher  things ;  and,  thanks  to 


LETTER  XXI.  155 

infinite  mercy,  those  things  of  matchless  worth  are  attain- 
able to  all  who  seek  them  rightly. 

Religion,  my  dear  Mary,  is  (among  its  other  inestimable 
advantages)  an  admirable  polisher  of  the  manners.  I  know 
nothing  so  sure  to  give  a  charm  to  female  deportment,  as 
the  possession  of  vital  piety.  It  sheds  a  halo  round  the 
mind,  and  imparts  a  lustre  to  every  moral  quality.  A  heart 
elevated  habitually  with  the  exalted  emotion  of  love  to  God, 
must  send  forth  upon  the  world  a  perennial  stream  of 
sweet  and  holy  feelings.  It  is  the  glorious  province  of 
Christianity  to  extinguish  the  malignant  passions,  and  soften 
all  the  asperities  of  man.  Unless  it  performs  these  miracles, 
it  is  not  that  religion  which  Christ  came  to  propagate.  The 
tree  must  be  known  by  its  fruits.  A  new  heart  cannot 
prompt  us  to  walk  in  the  old  ways  of  evil  familiar  to  its 
degenerate  state.  A  right  spirit  cannot  take  the  same 
beaten  track  of  error  from  which  it  was  the  province  of 
Christianity  to  reclaim  it. 

No,  my  dear  Mary.  People  of  the  world  may  indeed  be 
allowed  to  doubt  the  efficacy  of  the  regenerating  principle, 
when  they  detect  carnal  motives  and  espy  worldly  passions 
rioting  with  primitive  luxuriance  beneath  the  flimsy  mask  of 
a  nominal  faith.  Alas,  for  poor  human  nature,  when  the 
shadow  is  so  often  made  to  pass  for  the  substance  of  virtue ! 
<«  We  are  believing  Christians,"  say  many  in  this  world, 
whose  natural  current  of  thought  and  feeling  has  sustained 
no  momentary  interruption  from  the  admission  of  a  faith 
which  is  intended  to  effect  a  radical  change  in  every  dispo- 
sition of  the  soul.  What  wonder,  then,  that  the  declaration 
should  be  so  common,  "  We  see  no  difference  between  these 
Christians  and  other  people.  They  are  selfish,  or  avari- 
cious, or  passionate,  or  malicious,  or  envious,  like  other 
varieties  of  human  character." 

When   real   Christians  reflect  upon    these  melancholy 


156  LETTER  XXI. 

truths,  they  should  rouse  every  energy  of  their  individual 
faith,  for  the  purpose  of  making  the  change  from  death  unto 
life  visible  in  themselves.  Their  prayer  should  be,  "  Let 
me,  at  least,  O  Lord,  show  forth  in  my  conduct  the 
efficacy  of  thy  holy  religion,  as  a  soul  healing  principle. 
Let  me  become  a  new  creature,  for  I  profess  to  have  been 
born  anew  of  thy  Spirit,  and  I  long  to  show  its  fruits  to  the 
world  in  a  living  faith.  Try  me — prove  the  ground  of  my 
heart.  I  know  there  are  ways  of  wickedness  in  me,  and  I 
long  to  experience  a  full  regeneration  of  soul.  Sin  is  hate- 
ful to  me.  O  aid  me  to  cast  it  from  me.  Shall  1  [appear 
before  the  world  under  the  sacred  designation  of  a  Chris- 
tian, and  shall  that  world  behold  in  me  the  same  carnal 
being,  sullied  by  the  same  vices,  tainted  by  the  same  errors, 
which  identified  my  unregenerate  state  ?  Forbid  it  love ! 
forbid  it  reason !  Let  me  not  so  dishonour  thy  cause,  Oh 
my  God.  But  without  the  incessant  operation  of  thy  grace, 
the  original  taint  of  sin  will  pollute  every  impulse.  Oh, 
cleanse  me  daily.  Heal  me  hourly.  I  believe  that  thou 
canst  effect  this  mighty  work.  Oh,  make  me  a  living  exam- 
ple of  the  truth  of  my  own  established  belief,  that  the  Chris- 
tian is  born  again,  and  must  become  a  new  creature." 

Such  should  be  the  constant  aim,  and  the  earnest  prayer 
of  those  on  whom  devoles  the  holy  task  of  proving  the  truth 
of  God's  word,  by  their  daily  conduct.  Is  not  this  a  mighty 
responsibility?  Should  it  not  mingle  with  every  thought, 
and  prompt  every  word  of  the  Christian  indeed  ?  Alas ! 
when  we  hear  people  of  the  world  sneer  at  our  faith,  instead 
of  getting  angry  with  them,  we  ought  seriously  to  ask  our- 
selves, what  we  have  done  to  prove  the  truth  of  our  religion. 
In  following  this  rule,  we  might  chance  to  find  that  instead 
of  doing  any  thing  in  aid  of  the  holy  cause,  we  have  per- 
haps polluted  the  multitude  in  the  evil  practice  of  disproving 
the  truth  daily,  by  our  conduct.     The  most  sacred  and 


LETTER  XXI.  157 

awful  responsibility  is  imposed  on  us,  and  yet  we  act  as  if 
we  were  as  free  in  thinking  and  doing,  as  those  who  are 
restrained  by  no  profession. 

Some  of  those  who  profess  to  feel  this  responsibility,  con- 
fine their  efforts  in  maintaining  the  cause  of  God,  solely  to 
their  own  particular  sect.  They  are  warm  in  defence  of 
particular  doctrines;  but  their  zeal  cools  when  they  discuss 
the  general  merits  of  the  cause.  They  inveigh  against  par- 
ticular sects,  as  intolerant  or  careless,  or  worldly  minded,  or 
as  sanctioning  some-individual  practice  or  opinion  obnoxious 
to  other  sects. 

I  know  people  who  are  cold  enough  when  speaking  of  the 
might}'  resuls  of  Christian  principle  in  meliorating  the  moral 
condition  of  man;  but  let  them  speak  of  their  own  sectarian 
tenets,  and  a  warm  current  of  feeling  seems  to  gush  forth  as 
if  from  some  hidden  reservoir.  They  wax  warmer  and 
warmer,  as  the  merits  of  their  own  opinions  and  doctrines 
become  brighter  and  brighter  to  their  contemplation.  With 
this  warm  stream  of  sectarian  feeling,  mingles  a  bitter  cur- 
rent of  animosity  towards  those  of  different  modes  of  think- 
ing. They  declaim,  and  redden,  and  sometimes  vituperate 
their  sectarian  opponents.  Their  minds  fasten  upon  some 
perverted  statement  of  the  doctrines  of  other  denominations 
of  Christians,  and  they  are  so  absorbed  in  wonder  at  their 
errors,  that  it  never  occurs  to  them  to  investigate  their  own. 
Indeed  they  would  flush  indignantly  at  the  mention  of  error, 
as  applied  to  their  own  doctrines. 

Bitterly,  indeed,  must  all  true  disciples  of  the  Redeemer 
lament  the  prevalence  of  sectarian  prejudice  among  the 
Christians  of  our  land. 

The  Author  of  Christianity  has  permitted,  for  wise  pur- 
poses, that  the  Church  on  earth  should  be  divided  and  sub- 
divided into  different  denominations,  all  of  which  concur  in 
the  same  broad  and  bright  foundation  of  scriptural  truth. 
To  give  scope  to  diversity  of  tastes  and  opinions,  he  has 
O 


1 58  LETTER  XXI. 

left  the  arrangement  of  subordinate  parts  of  the  mighty 
system,  to  his  creatures  on  earth,  moulding  them  all  with 
omnipotent  skill  into  the  one  stupendous  plan  devised  by 
his  wisdom.  But  the  perverted  ingenuity  of  man  has  raised 
insurmountable  barriers  between  the  servants  of  the  same 
Master,  and  children  of  the  same  Parent.  Instead  of  con- 
sidering themselves  as  so  many  links  of  the  same  chain, 
they  rend  the  bonds  of  Christian  union,  and  deepen  every 
shade  of  difference,  until  they  produce  total  dissimilarity 
among  brethren  of  the  same  great  family.  We  are  permit- 
ted to  nourish  a  rational  preference  for  our  own  modes  of 
faith,  as  we  are  allowed  to  love  those  best  who  most  resem- 
ble us  in  character;  but  surely  this  privilege  does  not 
necessarily  infer,  not  only  an  exclusive  partiality  for  our 
own  sect  and  family,  but  an  envenomed  prejudice  against 
the  rest  of  our  fellow  creatures. 

Sectarian  prejudice  narrows  the  mind,  and  sours  the 
temper,  while  it  contracts  the  kindred  charities  of  life  to  a 
single  point.  Every  Christian  should  enlist  with  some  fra- 
ternity of  evangelical  worshippers;  for  the  rights  and 
privileges  of  church  membership  form  a  valuable  portion  of 
our  social  prerogatives.  They  are  but  another  modification 
of  the  sacred  family  compact;  and  the  more  ties  we  can 
frame  to  strengthen  our  kindred  charities,  the  wider  becomes 
the  sphere  of  social  affection. 

All  our  virtuous  feelings  require  careful  nurture,  and  the 
enlargement  of  our  sweetest  affections  produces  an  increase 
of  virtuous  enjoyment.  On  the  contrary,  whatever  narrows 
our  sphere  of  sympathies  and  affections,  tends  to  render 
the  heart  less  susceptible  of  happiness.  I  know  instances 
of  sectarian  prejudice  that  have  effectually  destroyed  family 
harmony  among  otherwise  amiable  people.  I  know  cases 
where  a  blight  has  fallen  upon  fair  prospects,  from  no  visible 
source,  but  those  differences  of  opinion  in  matters  of  faith, 
which  are  perfectly  compatible  with  the  strictest  harmony. 


LETTER  XXI.  159 

Guard  carefully  against  these  errors,  my  dear  girl. 
Distrust  your  own  Christian  feelings,  if  they  do  not 
peremptorily  resist  the  entrance  of  harsh  thoughts  into 
your  bosom,  against  your  brethren  of  any  other  denomina- 
tion. Distrust  the  spiritual  head  of  your  church,  if  you 
find  him  pleased  at  hearing  animadversions  against  any 
other  sect.  It  should  be  enough  for  him  that  you  indulge  a 
rational  preference  for  your  own.  None  but  narrow  hearts 
and  weak  heads  find  invectives  against  other  modes  of  faith 
the  surest  way  of  maintaining  a  regard  for  their  own. 
These  are  pitiful  expedients  to  enhance  the  merits  of  the 
cause  you  have  adhered  to  from  motives  of  rational  prefer- 
ence. But  many  persons  maintain  religious  excitement  by 
ministering  to  it  through  the  medium  of  carnal  feelings. 
They  kindle  the  flame  of  affection  from  the  torch  of  discord, 
and  find  their  love  for  their  own  sect  increase  in  proportion 
to  their  dislike  for  every  other. 

But  enough  of  this  ungrateful  topic.  I  will  only  add,  that 
I  wish  you  to  unite  yourself  with  the  sect  you  like  best  your- 
self,  after  a  strict  and  impartialexamination  into  the  respective 
merits  of  them  all.  Take  no  one's  opinion  on  trust  in  such 
an  important  question.  When  you  have  decided,  prudently 
shun  all  discussion  on  the  subject  with  others.  Cherish 
a  warm  affection  for  true  Christians  of  all  other  denomina- 
tions, and  do  not  fancy  that  the  want  of  spirituality  in  a 
few  individuals  affords  a  sufficient  pretext  for  condemning 
the  sect  to  which  they  belong.  There  is  enough  correct 
Christian  principle  in  all  denominations  to  maintain  their 
partisans  in  a  virtuous  tone  of  feeling,  if  they  make  a  right 
use  of  it;  and  there  are  errors  enough  existing  also  in  each 
sect  to  authorize  many  lapses  of  Christian  duty  in  those 
who  wish  to  avail  themselves  of  such  circumstances. 

The  strongest  parties  have  their  weak  points,  and  the 
weakest  have  some  strong  ones.     I  consider  that  sect  the 


160  LETTER  XXII. 

wisest  and  the  most  likely  to  prosper,  which  adheres  con- 
scientiously to  its  own  principles,  and  exercises  most  libe- 
rality towards  the  principles  of  other  sects. 

I  am,  dear  Mary,  yours  most  fondly. 


LETTER  XXII. 

On  Friendship. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

I  have  endeavoured  to  direct  you  in  the  acquisition  of  that 
friend  who  sticketh  closer  than  a  brother,  and  I  will  now 
give  you  my  ideas  upon  the  subject  of  those  ties  which  you 
will  form  with  your  fellow  pilgrims  on  the  journey  of  life. 

Friendship,  in  its  purity,  is  indeed  a  rich  treasure,  and  a 
delightful  solace  to  the  cares  and  troubles  incident  to  human- 
ity;  but  it  is  not  so  easy  a  thing  as  is  generally  imagined,  to 
form  and  maintain  this  union  consistently  and  effectually. 
It  has  been  my  aim  in  these  letters,  to  discuss  candidly  the 
defects  attributed  to  your  sex.  Inconstancy,  both  in  friend- 
ship and  in  love,  is  one  among  the  number.  But  again  1 
must  affirm,  that  this  vice  is  the  growth  of  weak  minds,  of 
whichever  sex  they  may  chance  to  be.  The  reason  why 
female  friendships  are  so  often  unstable,  is  obviously  because 
they  are  carelessly  formed.  Indeed,  I  will  not  allow  the 
term  friendship  to  be  applied  to  the  sentimental  connexions 
contracted  in  the  nonage  of  reason,  and  under  the  pupilage 
of  an  ill-ruled,  exuberant  imagination.  Neitherdo  I  dignify 
with  that  consecrated  term,  the  acquaintanceships  and  com- 
panionships contracted  under  boarding-school  auspices. 
Friendship,  in  its  true  acceptation,  signifies  a  union  of  hearts 


LETTER    XXII.  161 

which  endures  through  time,  and  if  my  hopes  do  not  deceive 
me,  through  eternity  also.  It  is  not  a  provisional,  conven- 
tional agreement,  destined  to  fulfil  a  stipulated  good,  and  to 
be  dissolved.  It  is  not  an  interested  connexion,  which  may 
be  broken  when  it  has  yielded  certain  good  offices.  Neither 
is  it  a  chance-medley  assortment,  in  which  hearts  are  brought 
into  contact  for  a  brief  space,  and  then  separated  for  ever. 
It  is  a  union  of  souls,  sanctioned  by  divine  authority,  and  in- 
tended for  the  reciprocal  benefit  of  the  parties  united.  It 
cultivates  all  the  social  virtues,  and  fosters  the  rational 
sensibilities  of  man.  No  selfish,  weak  person  can  be  a  good 
friend :  no  versatile,  capricious  mind  can  maintain  this 
connexion.  It  requires  disinterestedness,  firmness,  and 
tenderness,  to  form  an  indestructible  union  of  souls,  such  as 
deserves  to  be  recognized  by  the  Father  of  all  in  heaven. 
In  my  own  opinion,  there  is  a  sanctity  in  the  term  friend, 
which  prevents  me  from  bestowing  it  without  deep  consider- 
ation. There  is  nothing  so  much  talked  about,  and  so  little 
understood,  in  this  world,  as  friendship.  The  connexions 
which  bear  that  name  among  us,  with  few  exceptions,  are 
slightly  formed  ties  of  interest,  or  taste,  or  convenience,  or 
chance,  brought  together  with  a  breath,  and  dissolved  in  the 
pronouncing  of  a  sentence.  They  are  no  more  to  be  com- 
pared to  the  real  bond,  than  the  unspun  flax  to  the  twisted 
cable.     But  enough  of  similitudes. 

It  is  my  wish  that  you  should  perfectly  understand  what 
friendship  is,  that  you  may  be  able  to  form  and  maintain 
for  yourself,  this  inestimable  support  and  solace  under  the 
trials  of  life.  Choose  then  a  firm-minded,  amiable-tempered, 
warm-hearted  woman.  Study  her  character  until  you  un- 
derstand it  thoroughly.  If  you  discover  traits  that  you  think 
are  incompatible  with  the  preservation  of  friendship,  recede 
in  time  from  a  strict  union,  and  content  yourself  with  hold- 
ing her  in  a  subordinate  grade  of  regard ;  but  if  your  affection 
is  firm  enough  to  stand  a  few  uncongenial  traits,  you  must 
o  2 


16-2  LETTER   XXII. 

resolve  to  bear  the  burden  faithfully,  when  once  you  have 
assumed  it.  Should  your  friend  prove  selfish  or  capricious, 
you  must  prepare  to  endure  many  trials  of  feeling  as  well  as 
patience.  It  is  hard  indeed,  to  put  up  with  the  frequent 
mortification  of  finding  yourself  deserted  in  the  hour  of  need ; 
of  being  laid  aside  from  mere  weariness  of  a  tedious  connex- 
ion; or  perhaps  rebuked  for  asking  too  much,  when  you 
have  in  }'our  turn  sacrificed  every  thing. 

A  warm,  affectionate  heart  delights  in  being  called  upon 
to  serve  a  friend  to  its  own  hinderance  ;  it  makes  all  requi- 
site sacrifices  with  pleasure;  and,  judging  others  by  itself, 
has  no  hesitation  in  believing  that  these  services  will  be 
strictly  reciprocal.  By  and  by  it  is  so  situated  as  to  require 
a  return  of  favours.  The  case  may  be  urgent,  and,  in  full 
confidence  of  success,  the  application  is  made.  Would  I 
could  save  you  all  similar  sufferings,  dear  Mary,  by  detailing 
at  length  my  own  feelings  at  such  a  crisis,  when  the  friend 
in  whom  I  trusted,  coldly  declined  my  request,  and  wondered 
I  could  be  so  unreasonable  as  to  make  it.  But  instead  of 
representing  my  own  sufferings,  I  had  better  point  out  the 
mannner  in  which  reason  and  religion  succeeded  in  mitigating 
them. 

After  my  first  mortification  was  over,  T  re-examined  the 
character  of  my  friend,  and  found  that  enthusiasm  had  led 
me  to  exspect  more  than  that  character  was  capable  of 
performing.  I  had  been  unreasonable  in  my  requisitions, 
not  upon  friendship  itself,  but  upon  the  person  whom  I  had 
invested  with  all  the  rights  and  privileges  of  that  exalted 
sentiment.  The  fault  was  partly  in  myself,  and  I  bore  it 
better  than  if  it  had  been  all  my  friend's.  I  did  not  throw 
away  in  disgust  the  portion  of  regard  which  was  really  felt 
for  me,  but  I  determined  never  again  to  tax  it  too  highly.  It 
was  then  that  I  clearly  understood  what  true  disinterested- 
ness meant;  for  I  learnt  in  some  sort  to  practise  it.  I 
continued  to  serve  my  friend  whenever   occasion  offered, 


LETTER  XXII.  163 

without  expecting  any  thing  like  strict  reciprocity  of  services. 
The  great  ethic  rule  of  three — "  Do  unto  all  men  as  you 
would  they  should  do  unto  y°""-~  le  not  always  correctly 
understood.  When  people  do  as  they  would  be  done  by, 
they  often  assume  to  themselves  the  right  of  exacting  more 
than  all  persons  can  perform.  They  forget  that  their  own 
part  of  the  duty  should  be  performed  with  a  single  eye  to  the 
glory  of  God,  and  are  apt  to  complain,  that  they  do  not 
receive  exactly  the  same  measure  they  mete  to  others.  But 
if  we  consider  first  our  capacities  to  do  good,  and  next  the 
motive  by  which  we  should  be  actuated  in  doing  it,  viz.  the 
glory  of  our  God, — we  will  thankfully  receive  whatever 
portion  may  fall  to  our  lot  in  return,  though  it  may  fall  short 
of  what  we  have  done  unto  others.  God,  in  commanding 
us  to  do  unto  all  men  what  we  would  wish  them  to  do  to  us, 
has  given  us  a  rule  by  which  he  exacts  as  much  as  we  can 
do  for  his  own  glory.  We  do  it  in  fact  unto  God,  and  not 
unto  others — "  Whatsoever  ye  do  unto  the  least  of  these,  is 
done  unto  me" — and  we  should  consider  in  the  very  act 
itself,  that  we  are  doing  it  for  one  who  has  a  right  to  our 
best  services.  If  therefore  all  men  perform  this  duty  as  they 
ought,  mankind  will  reap  the  benefit  of  their  own  obedience 
to  God.  The  good  that  he  has  commanded  to  be  done  for 
his  glory,  is  done  to  our  fellow  men.  What  infinite,  what 
wonderful  wisdom  in  the  Highest  and  Mightiest  !  But  let 
not  man  suppose  when  he  is  doing  his  best  to  his  fellow  men, 
that  he  is  to  receive  their  best  in  return.  No :  he  must 
consult  his  own  wishes  as  the  measure  of  his  obedience,  not 
of  the  obedience  of  others,  because  that  would  keep  his  eye 
on  the  reward  of  his  services,  whereas  it  should  be  kept  on 
the  glory  of  God,  which  is  to  be  promoted  by  those  services. 
I  once  heard  a  poor,  discontented  woman  say,  that  she  had 
all  her  life  been  doing  as  she  would  be  done  by,  but  that 
nobody  had  ever  done  by  her  as  she  wished.  "  Then," 
said  I,  "  you  have  done  good  by  others,  solely  that  they 


164  LETTER  XXii. 

might  return  the  good  to  you,  have  you  not?"  "  Yes,  surely,'* 
said  she,  "  an't  that  to  be  the  reward  of  our  good  deeds  ?" 
"  No,  no.,  rny  frUnd,1*  saia  I,  "  yon  mistake  the  matter. 
You  must  keep  the  law  of  God  for  his  glory,  not  for  your 
own  interest."  She  said  whiningly,  that  this  was  a  new 
thing  to  her,  and  she  was  too  old  to  learn. 

But  to  return  to  our  original  subject.  I  would  wish  you, 
dear  Mary,  to  consider  yourself  solemnly  bound  to  perform 
all  the  offices  of  affection  to  those  whom  you  have  openly 
invested  with  the  claims  of  friendship.  Measure  not  your 
own  deeds  by  theirs,  but  strictly  enforce  the  golden  rule 
upon  yourself,  however  it  may  be  slighted  by  others.  Yet 
if  the  person  you  have  chosen  as  your  friend,  should  slight 
you  entirely,  or  show  a  desire  to  be  released  from  the  tie,  do 
not  attempt  to  withhold  her.  On  the  contrary,  give  full 
scope  to  her  wishes  ;  but  remember,  that  you  are  to  bear  no 
ill  will,  nor  harbour  a  resentful  thought  against  her.  If  she 
has  indeed  acted  amiss,  her  conduct  will  be  its  own  punish- 
ment, and  surely,  if  ever  she  deserves  chastisement  it  will 
come  upon  her,  for  wilfully  casting  away  the  treasure  of  a 
warm,  disinterested  heart.  The  time  will  come,  (unless  she 
is  entirely  worthless,)  when  she  will  feel  it,  and  if  you  can 
ever  render  her  a  good  office,  I  am  sure  you  will  do  it  with 
alacrity.  A  good  heart  can  never  entirely  subdue  a  deep 
and  ardent  attachment.  Much  tenderness  and  compassion 
will  remain  at  the  bottom  of  the  heart,  ready  to  come  forth 
at  the  first  call. 

If  you  should  have  the  blessing  of  deserving  friends,  I 
need  not  instruct  you  how  to  cherish  them  :  your  own  heart 
will  perform  that  office  spontaneously.  Yet  I  would  warn 
you  against  expecting  too  much,  and  above  all,  against 
torturing  your  friends  with  needless  jealousies  and  suspicions. 
Some  people  cannot  bear  that  their  intimate  friends  should 
give  any  share  of  their  affections  to  others.  This  is  selfish 
and  unreasonable.     Surely  if  you  have  proper  confidence 


LETTER  XXII.  165 

in  your  friend,  (and  that  you  must  have  in  a  tried  one,)  you 
may  safely  leave  to  herself  the  privilege  of  forming  other 
friendships.     Pay  her  the  compliment  of  loving  those  whom 
she  loves,  and  enlarge  your  circle  for  her  sake.     But  never 
suffer  morbid  sensibility  to  disturb  your  peace,  and  that  of 
your  chosen  friends.     I  have  often  observed,  that  suspecting 
ill  will  in  others,  very  often  produces  it  ;  and  on  the  contrary, 
I  have  also  discovered,  that  you  may  do  away  trifling  dis- 
pleasure, by  wilfully  overlooking  it,  and  acting  as  if  it  did 
not  exist.     With  regard  to  confidential  disclosures,  I   think 
great  mischef  is  done  by  incautious  young  girls,  who  love 
mystery  because  it  invests  them  with  a  feeling  of  self-import- 
ance ;  they  will  have  their  secrets,  therefore,  and  make  a 
great  show  of  confiding  them  to  a  chosen  few.     But  all  this 
parade  is  beneath  my  notice,  as  it  is  beneath  your  practice. 
Did  you  never  observe  a  certain  affected  young  lady,  who 
is  brimful  of  mawkish  sentiment?   How  fond  of  mystery  she 
is — what  a  budget  of  confidence  she  has  to  unlade  to  her 
chere  amie  !  I  should  really  shrink  from  her  friendship  as  a 
severe  infliction.     But  seriously  speaking,  discreet,  correct, 
and   well  educated  women,  should  have  very  few  secrets. 
Indeed,  I  know  not  what  strictly  legitimate  mysteries  they 
have  a  right  to.     Accident,  to  be  sure,  may  make  them 
acquainted  with  things  that  should  not  be  disclosed  to  every 
one;  but  in  the  fair  and  free  social  intercourse  of  life,  mys- 
teries are  unpleasant,  if  not  suspicious.     In  all  love  affairs, 
young  ladies  should  consider  it  a  point  of  honour,  to  be 
silent  respecting  those  lovers  whom  they  do  not  mean  to 
accept.     None    but  their  parents  and  confidential  friends 
should  be  informed  of  these  things.    But  when  a  young  lady 
has  made  a  selection,  and  is  actually  betrothed,  I  see  no 
occasion  for  concealment.     In  the  first  place,  let  her  desire 
it  ever    so   much,   it    is    unattainable.      The    more    she 
involves  her  affairs    in    mystery,    the    more  she  excites 


166  LETTER  XXII. 

curiosity;  and  that  busy  quality  once  set  to  work,  there  is 
no  doubt  but  it  will  discover  either  truth  or  falsehood.  Is  it 
not  therefore  more  natural,  that  a  delicate,  candid  female 
should  let  the  truth  be  known,  than  that  she  should  subject 
herself  to  malicious  or  envious  misconstruction,  by  insisting 
upon  mystery  ?  I  once  knew  a  young  lady,  who  would  not 
suffer  her  own  near  relations  to  be  told  of  her  engagement. 
There  was  not  even  to  be  a  whisper  on  the  subject  within 
her  knowledge.  The  consequence  was,  that  every  one  set 
to  work  at  guessing,  and  the  whole  affair  was  discovered, 
and  a  great  deal  more  discussed  than  it  would  have  been, 
if  it  had  been  honestly  acknowledged.  The  young  lady 
went  to  a  party  with  her  lover,  but  would  not  allow  him  to 
approach  her,  for  fear  people  should  guess  something :  the 
whole  room  knew  the  fact,  and  watched  every  movement  of 
the  mysterious  couple.  The  next  day,  nothing  was  talked 
of  but  tlieir  sly  glances,  and  tender  signals  to  each  other 
during  the  evening.  Had  they  not  attempted  mystery,  the 
circumstance,  being  of  frequent  occurrence,  would  have 
passed  without  a  remark. 

When  a  secret  is  told  you,  it  should  be  kept  inviolably ; 
however  unnecessary  the  mystery  may  appear  to  you,  it  is 
your  sacred  duty  to  be  secret.  You  cannot  reveal  such  a 
confidence  without  dishonour.  But  I  pray  you,  my  dear, 
have  few  mysteries  of  your  own.  Let  your  conduct  be  so 
open,  that  secrecy  will  not  be  needful.  Many  people  have 
no  other  use  for  a  friend,  than  to  keep  their  secrets ;  and 
that  is  one  reason  why  true  friendship  is  so  rare.  You  will 
know  how  to  use  your  friends  to  more  purpose.  They  will 
aid  you  in  all  your  difficulties  with  advice — with  upholding; 
and  lastly  and  most  dearly,  with  sympathy  in  your  inevita- 
ble sorrows.  May  you  be  blest  with  a  true  friend,  who 
will  adhere  to  you  inflexibly  through  good  report  and  evil 
report;  through  prosperity  and  adversity;  through  all  the 


LETTER  XXIII.  167 

changes  of  this  mutable  world,  and  even  smooth  the  bed  of 
death  in  the  closing  struggle  of  nature.  I  can  wish  you  few 
better  things  on  this  side  heavenl  With  true  regard,  I 
remain 

Ever  yours. 


LETTER  XXIII. 

On  Romance  and  Poetry. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

It  is  customary  in  the  present  age,  to  condemn,  en  masse} 
the  whole  race  of  romances  as  dangerous  productions.  But 
J  cannot  consent  to  sweep  away  so  large  a  portion  of  the 
blossoms  of  literature,  and  so  fair  a  field  for  the  exercise  and 
improvement  of  taste.  Dry  writers,  who  contend  for  the 
daily, bread  of  sober,  nutritious  morality,  are  afraid  to  allow 
any  mixture  of  fancy's  flowers,  with  the  intellectual  banquet 
of  philosophy  and  science.  But  though  I  would  certainly 
prefer  solid  works  10  the  light  productions  of  fancy,  yet  I 
cannot  but  desire  to  retain  the  latter  as  auxiliaries  in  my 
plan  of  mental  improvement. 

To  ground  an  education  upon  romance  reading,  would 
be  like  building  a  portico  Instead  of  a  dwelling  house. 
But  no  one  will  deny  that  the  portico  is  a  pleasing,  and 
even  useful,  appendage  to  the  comfortable  mansion,  when 
it  is  erected  on  a  firm  foundation.  Besides,  if  all  moralists 
were  to  unite  in  prohibiting  works  of  fancy,  it  would  be 
impossible  to  enforce  the  prohibition.  If  they  are  not  read 
openly,  they  will  be  devoured  in  secret;  and  the  habit  of 
practising  deception  is  more  dangerous  to  the  morals,  than  a 
host  of  romances.  I  never  knew  an  instance  of  an  impera- 
tive prohibition  of  this  sort,  that  was  not  accompanied  with 


168  LETTER  XXIII. 

evasions,  if  not  positive  infractions.  Parents  should  avoid 
enforcing  such  rules  as  may  admit  the  imputation  of  need- 
less severity  or  fastidious  particularity.  However  dutiful 
their  children  may  be,  they  will  find  human  nature  harder 
to  control  than  they  imagined,  when  they  were  forming 
their  theories  upon  some  beautiful  abstract  system.  It  is 
better,  therefore,  to  make  timely  allowance  for  those  exube- 
rances, which  will  infallibly  present  difficulties  in  practice, 
though  they  may  have  been  overlooked  in  theory.  But 
even  supposing  it  practicable  to  keep  young  people  from 
romances  of  every  description,  it  certainly  is  not  desirable  in 
my  opinion.  There  are  works  of  moral  fiction  in  our  day, 
which  are  eminently  calculated  to  exalt  the  moral  sense,  and 
develope  the  social  virtues.  The  mode  of  illustrating  by 
fictitious  examples  the  most  needful  moral  qualities,  has 
been  practised  successfully  in  all  ages.  The  sacred  parables 
themselves  are  beautiful  specimens  of  this  method  of  instruc- 
tion :  most  of  the  books  intended  for  children  are  on  this 
plan.  But  when  the  intellect  has  expanded,  and  can  com- 
prehend the  abstract  principles  of  ethics,  it  is  alleged  that 
the  mind  can  receive  more  solid  improvement  from  works  of 
reason  and  philosophy.  This  is  very  true.  There  are 
individuals  of  both  sexes  who  are  capable  of  comprehending 
the  deepest  and  most  abstract  disquisitions  on  morals  ;  and 
such  works  should  indubitably  be  read  by  those  gifted  indi- 
viduals. But  there  are  many  females,  (I  will  confine  myself 
to  them,)  who  have  not  sufficiently  strong  minds  to  enter 
into  deep  investigations.  To  all  such  a  lighter  method  of 
instruction  is  valuable,  because  it  enables  them  to  draw 
important  truths  from  accessible  sources.  And  to  many, 
whose  opportunities  of  acquiring  solid  information  are  rare, 
those  works  which  simplify  important  knowledge,  are 
valuable.  But  for  you,  my  dear  Mary,  who  have  every 
advantage  in  acquiring  an  education,  I  would  lay  down  a 
plain  and  easy  rule. 


LETTER  XXII I.  169 

Never  suffer  yourself  to  be  seduced  into  novel  reading  as 
an  occupation.     In  your  hours  of  recreation,  read  those 
works  of  fiction  which  have  been  put  forth  by  writers  of 
undoubted  talent.     To  suppose  that  you  can  prey  upon 
the  garbage  of  a  circulating  library,  would  be  to  draw  the 
painful  inference  that  you  were  destitute  of  taste,  and  this  I 
cannot  bear  to  do,  even  in  conjecture.     A  mind  that  can 
take  pleasure  in  the  trash  of  silly  novels  which  may  be 
raked  from  the  charnel  houses  of  literature,  deserves  to  be 
compared  to  the  female  monster,  in  the  Arabian  tales,  who 
fed  upon  dead  bodies.     I  cannot  imagine  so  degraded  a  state 
of  intellect  among  the  enlightened  people  of  our  age  and 
country.     But  if  such  a  morbid  appetite  should  by  chance 
exist,  it  should  be  resisted  like  the  depraved  desire  to  eat 
chalk  and  other  unnatural  food,  which  betokens  a  diseased 
state  of  the  animal  system.     There  can  be  no  regular  rule 
for  indulging  a  taste  for  the  higher  works  of  fancy.     Each 
individual  is  the  best  judge  of  what  is  safe  and  salutary  for 
bis  own  case.     As  particular  articles  of  food  disagree  with 
particular    constitutions,   so    there  are    certain    intellectual 
repasts  which  cannot  be  partaken  without  danger,  by  minds 
in  a  certain  state.     I  once  knew  a  fine  girl,  who  could  not 
venture  to  read  a  line  of  Byron's  poetry.     She  began  by 
reading  his  works  with  avidity,  as  fast  as  they   were  pub- 
lished ;  but  they  brought  on  such  an  unnatural  and  feverish 
excitement   of   her   imagination,   that   she    determined   to 
abstain  from  them  as  poisonous  aliment.     I  would  advise 
you  to  keep  this  rule  steadily  yourself,  and  never  to  read 
any  thing  that  carries  you  away  from  the  every-day  con- 
cerns of  life.     There  are  some  imaginations  that  fly  away 
from  reason  and  reality,  as  soon  as  they  borrow  wings  from 
poetry  or  romance.     There  are  others  that  merely  skim  along 
lightly,  and  experience  a  pleasant  buoyancy  of  spirits,  from 
the  perusal  of  the  most  animated  work  of  fancy.    ■  The 
first  should  avoid,  as  dangerous,  every  thing  which  tends  to 
P 


1  70  LETTER  XXIII. 

excite  them  :  the  last  may  venture  lo  employ  leisure  time  in 
light  reading.  But  never  suffer  yourself  to  neglect  serious 
study  or  occupation,  for  the  sake  of  the  finest  poem  or 
romance  that  ever  was  composed.  I  would  as  soon  live 
upon  syllabub  or  honey,  as  to  fill  up  my  mind  with  the 
froth  and  foam  of  romance;  but  I  nevertheless  eat  syllabub 
with  pleasure  in  its  proper  place,  after  I  have  satisfied 
myself  with  nutritious  diet;  and  I  read  Scott's  romances 
(some  of  them)  with  great  pleasure  by  way  of  recreation  : 
they  relax  the  mind  pleasantly  enough,  after  long  tension ; 
but  they  would  degrade  it  utterly  to  frivolity,  if  nothing 
more  serious  was  put  before  them.  Read  then,  solely  for 
recreation,  both  romances  and  poetry,  unless  you  find  that 
they  unfit  you  for  serious  thought;  if  they  have  that  effect, 
discard  them,  as  you  have  already  discarded  plays  and 
balls.  Every  thing  that  unhinges  the  mind  and  slackens 
the  intellectual  nerve,  is  dangerous,  and  must  be  avoided. 
We  have  too  much  use  for  our  sober  faculties  in  this  per- 
plexed scene  of  life,  to  allow  them  to  weaken  or  droop  over 
fiction  or  sentiment :  the  medium  is  always  best  and  safest. 
Some  people  are  so  fond  of  visiting,  that  they  will  not 
mind  their  own  affairs  at  home  ;  but  we  would  not  therefore 
prohibit  young  people  from  visiting  their  friends,  lest  they 
should  contract  a  habit  of  gadding.  All  amusements  are 
dangerous,  when  the  mind  becomes  exclusively,  or  dispro- 
portionably  attached  to  them;  but  no  moralist  would  on 
that  account,  prohibit  recreations  entirely.  The  abuse  of 
any  good  thing,  is  no  argument  against  the  judicious  use  of 
it.  For  my  part,  I  wish  all  our  amusements  could  be  intel- 
lectual instead  of  sensual ;  and  surely  one  of  Scott's  best 
romances,  or  a  sublime  piece  of  poetry,  would  fill  up  a 
leisure  hour  more  profitably  than  chess,  or  cards,  or  riddles, 
not  to  mention  the  senseless  games  in  vogue  among  the 
young  and  thoughtless.  The  novels  of  Mrs.  Brunton,  and 
Miss  Grace  Kennedy,  are  calculated  to  impress  the  funda- 


LETTER  XXIII.  171 

mental  truths  of  religion  indelibly  upon  the  mind.  They 
exhibit  the  beauties  and  advantages  of  Christian  faith  and 
practice,  in  an  interesting  delineation  of  characters  drawn 
from  real  life.  The  little  work,  by  the  last  named  author, 
entitled  "  Profession  not  Principle,  or  the  name  of  Chris- 
tian not  Christianity,"  contains  the  best  description  I  have 
ever  seen,  of  the  gradual  change  which  takes  place  in  the 
heart,  when  it  is  renewed  by  grace.  Among  the  many 
irreligious  persons  in  our  age  and  country,  there  are  not  a 
few  who  persist  in  unbelief,  from  utter  ignorance  of  the 
beauties  of  true  Christianity.  They  have  been  nurtured  in 
darkness,  and  therefore  do  not  seek  the  light.  The  veil  has 
often  been  removed  from  the  vision  of  such  people,  by  a 
clear  and  lucid  exposition  of  divine  truth,  brought  before 
the  mind  in  the  narrative  form.  I  remember  being  greatly 
aided  in  my  researches  by  Mrs.  Brunton's  "Discipline," 
which  came  in  my  way,  in  the  midst  of  the  perplexity 
attendant  on  my  first  examination  into  the  mysteries  of 
revelation.  But  in  recommending  works  of  fiction  to  you, 
I  would  have  you  clearly  to  understand,  that  a  solid  founda- 
tion must  be  laid  in  your  mind,  by  serious  study,  before  you 
raise  the  superstructure  of  taste  with  the  above  mentioned 
materials.  A  regular  course  of  history  should  be  commenced 
at  twelve  years  of  age,  and  continued  with  unremitting 
assiduity  until  the  mind  is  stored  with  a  connected  recollec- 
tion of  important  historical  events,  from  the  creation  to  the 
present  day.  Beginning  at  the  Old  Testament,  and  follow- 
ing up  the  sacred  records  with  such  ancient  history  as  you 
can  procure,  you  must  endeavour  to  obtain  a  general  know- 
ledge of  the  nations  whose  origin  is  to  be  traced  in  the  Bible. 
The  history  of  Rome  is  so  deeply  interesting,  particularly 
in  the  days  of  the  republic,  that  you  will  need  no  inducement 
to  study,  when  you  once  begin,  greater  than  the  passing 
pleasure  of  the  pursuit.  Livy  is  a  delightful  historian.  He 
carries  you  irresistibly  along  with  his  narrative,  through  the 


172  LETTER  XXIII. 

various  changes  of  that  vast  empire,  which  was  once  mistress 
of  the  world.  Tacitus  and  Suetonius,  as  far  as  they  go,  fill 
up  some  of  the  chasms  in  regular  history;  but  after  reading 
Livy,  I  remember  reading  Polybius'  history  of  the  Punic 
wars,  to  carry  on  the  chain  of  events.  Middleton's  life  of 
Cicero,  is  a  finished  chronicle  of  the  times  in  which  that 
celebrated  Roman  lived;  and  Gibbon  gives  you  a  full, 
though  rather  verbose,  narrative  of  the  decline  and  fall  of 
that  mighty  empire.  Plutarch's  Lives  should  be  read  and 
re-read,  until  all  their  contents  are  indelibly  fixed  on  the 
memory.  It  is  best  to  read  them  in  connexion  with  history ; 
that  is,  to  take  up  each  life  as  you  come  to  the  period 
at  which  each  character  flourished.* 


*  History  should  always  be  read  with  geography,  for  it  is  im- 
possible to  remember  events,  unless  in  connexion  with  the  places 
at  which  they  happened.  Dates  should  also  be  scrupulously 
recorded,  and  extracts  of  important  events,  with  the  times  at 
which  they  happened,  and  a  brief  geographical  notice  of  places 
rendered  celebrated  by  their  occurrence,  should  form  a  regular 
volume  in  every  young  lady's  library.  It  is  pleasant  as  well  as 
profitable,  to  be  able  to  refer  to  such  a  summary  of  our  youthful 
studies,  when  years  have  passed  over  our  heads,  and  dimmed  the 
recollection  of  early  pursuits.  It  often  happens,  that  such  remi- 
niscences awaken  trains  of  thought  favourable  to  mental  or 
spiritual  improvement.  It  is  sometimes  useful  to  compare  present 
with  past  feelings  ;  to  measure  the  sober  march  of  chastened 
intellect,  with  the  full,  overflowing  ebullition  of  fresh  springing 
thoughts  and  feelings. 

Extracts  from  history  should  be  interspersed  with  such  reflec- 
tions as  arise  spontaneously  in  the  mind  while  reading.  These 
serve  to  mark  the  progress  of  the  judgment  towards  maturity. 
It  is  a  profitable  exercise  to  compare  these  reflections  at  different 
periods,  that  we  may  accurately  ascertain  the  developement  of 
reason  under  this  process  of  mental  instruction.  I  often  carry 
myself  back  to  the  earliest  season  of  youth,  by  looking  over  a 
book  of  extracts  from  history  read  at  that  period:  this  enables  me 
to  realize  my  own  state  of  mind  at  that  season  of  immaturity. 


LETTER  XXIII  173 

In  reading  Gibbon,  I  would  have  you  remember  that  his 
principles  are  dangerous ;  but  his  mode  of  treating  the  sub- 
ject of  Christianity,  will  doubtless  shock  your  orthodoxy. 
His  celebrated  chapter  on  the  causes  of  the  progress  of 
Christianity,  is  thought,  by  shallow  minded  people,  to  con- 
tain conclusive  arguments  against  that  holy  religion ;  but  a 
true  Christian  is  safe  from  his  sophistry,  and  a  child  in  faith 
can  refute  his  boasted  reasoning.  The  incongruity  of 
supposing  that  persecution  could  advance  the  interests  of  any 
cause,  is  too  striking  to  be  overlooked  by  a  tyro  in  logic. 
How  much  more  rational  it  is  to  deduce  from  this  circum- 
stance a  powerful  proof  of  the  strength  of  that  cause  which 
surmounts  persecution,  and  triumphs  against  opposition. 
Had  this  thing  originated  in  man's  devices,  man  could  and 
would  have  overthrown  it.  But  as  it  came  from  God  him- 
self, it  will  prosper  under  his  providence. 

The  history  of  Greece  should  be  taken  up  at  its  proper 
time,  and  read  in  connexion  with  that  of  Rome.  Gillies  is 
a  pleasing  writer ;  and  you  will  fancy  yourself  reading  a 
romance  when  you  take  up  Anacharsis.  With  regard  to  the 
history  of  England,  Hume  has  been  discarded  by  the  best 
judges,  and  Baxter  and  Rapin  substituted  in  his  place.  La 
Cretelle  is  the  most  pleasing  historian  of  France,  and  his 
"  Precis  de  la  Revolution,"  is  a  deeply  interesting  narrative. 
Voltaire's  General  History,  and  his  age  of  Lewis  XIV.  will 
be  always  read  with  pleasure.  The  u  Henriade"  of  the 
same  author  is  a  historical  poem,  and  the  best  known  spe- 
cimen of  French  epic  poetry.  Some  of  Voltaire's  dramatic 
works  are  pleasing,  but  no  female  can  contaminate  her 
mind  by  reading  his  works  of  fancy  and  fiction.  I  would 
refer  you  to  the  "  Universal  History,"  a  well  known  work, 

I  smile  over  detected  errors  of  judgment,  and  rejoice  that  years 
have  added  something  to  my  stock  of  discretion,  if  they  have 
subtracted  from  my  volubility  of  spirits, 
P  2 


174  LETTER  XXII 1. 

for  the  most  authentic  records  of  those  nations  mentioned 
in  the  Bible.  You  must  of  course  read  all  Robertson's 
Histories  j  as  they  are  indispensable  items  in  the  catalogue 
of  useful  reading.  With  regard  to  American  history,  there 
is  so  little,  that  you  must  read  all  you  can  procure. 

The  French  language  is  almost  essential  to  a  well  edu- 
cated woman ;  and  yet  I  would  not  have  you  read  much  of 
the  most  celebrated  literature  of  that  nation.  Rousseau  I 
would  prohibit  entirely,  and,  as  I  have  before  stipulated, 
much  of  Voltaire's  immoral  trash.  Among  the  female  wri- 
ters of  France,  I  would  recommend  Madam  de  Genlis,  as 
she  has  written  professedly  for  her  own  sex.  •  Yet  I  cannot 
but  object  to  her  plan  of  education,  that  it  tends  to  inculcate 
double  dealing ;  or  to  speak  more  cautiously,  it  does  not 
advocate  that  singleness  of  heart  and  freedom  from  duplicity, 
which  is  the  principal  charm  of  woman.  In  other  respects 
her  morality  is  pure,  and  her  style  is  certainly  highly 
pleasing.  Madam  de  Stael  Holstein,  though  the  greatest 
genius  of  the  age,  is  not  a  model  for  women  ;  her  declared 
infidelity  and  her  romantic  turn  of  thought,  together  with  her 
practice,  make  her  rather  a  warning  than  an  example  to  her 
sex.  Her  works  of  fiction  are  alluring  from  the  beauty  of 
her  style,  and  the  highly  wrought  tone  of  romance  which 
pervades  them.  But  all  her  rational  feelings,  and  even  her 
principles,  seem  to  evaporate  in  the  mystifying  vapour  of 
sentiment.  She  would  make  woman  a  thing  to  be  wor- 
shipped on  an  altar  ;  not  a  rational  being,  whose  intelligent 
and  active  exertions  are  to  afford  a  perennial  source  of  com- 
fort to  mankind.  I  would  not  advise  you  to  read  her  "  Cor- 
rinne,"  or  her  "  Delphine,"  lest  your  imagination  should 
become  infected  with  the  over  exquisite  fashion  of  her 
refinement.  Women  who  are  determined  (as  I  trust  you 
are)  to  be  rational  and  useful,  must  keep  a  strict  guard  over 
their  sensibilities,  instead  of  surrendering  them  to  the  guid- 
ance of  the  high  priestess  of  romance.     Madam  Cottin  is 


LETTER  XXIV.  1  75 

a  less  exceptionable  specimen  of  French  authoresses.  Her 
novels  are  pleasing  without  being  dangerous ;  for  they  skim 
lightly  over  the  fancy,  without  stirring  it  too  deeply.  The 
imagination  is  the  avenue  to  the  heart.  Some  writers  sport 
awhile  in  its  mystic  windings,  without  reaching  the  sanctum 
sanctorum  of  feeling.  While  others  possess  a  subtle  power, 
which  penetrates  at  once  to  the  citadel,  and  usurps  rule 
over  the  impulses.  I  would  have  you,  my  dear  girl,  always 
in  possession  of  your  own  rational  judgment,  in  all  things 
concerning  your  dearest  interests.  Women  who  exalt  their 
imaginations  by  the  overheated  ebullitions  of  sentimental 
writers,  place  themselves  in  the  dangerous  condition  of  being 
overcome  by  morbid  feeling,  or  misled  by  false  reasoning. 
Love  is  omnipotent  with  this  class  of  writers,  and  the  female 
heart  is  softened  to  puerile  weakness,  by  being  persuaded  to 
submit  to  its  usurpations,  without  appeal  to  reason.  But 
love  is  in  fact  a  dangerous  passion,  which  must  be  subjected 
to  vigorous  control;  for  it  will  subvert  the  peace  of  the  indi- 
vidual who  allows  its  predominance.  So  much  mischief  has 
befallen  those  who  have  acquiesced  in  its  tyranny,  that  the 
world  should  have,  ere  this,  gained  wisdom  from  experience. 
But  young  hearts  are  open  to  its  wiles,  and  it  is  necessary 
to  put  them  on  their  guard.  I  have  pursued  this  subject  far 
enough,  and  will  conclude  for  the  present  with  best  wishes 
to  my  dear  young  friend. 


LETTER  XXIV. 

Self-Deception  Exemplified. 
My  Dear  Mary, 

I  have  lately  witnessed  a  scene,  which  I  may  well 
describe  to  you  in  connexion  with  the  subject  of  my  last 
letter.  The  daughter  of  one  of  my  earliest  friends,  has  lately 
received  her  summons  to  quit  the  fleeting  things  of  time,  and 


1 76  LETTER  XXIV. 

embark  on  the  shoreless  ocean  of  eternity.  Five  years  ago, 
this  young  lady  publicly  professed  religion,  and  took  upon 
her  the  emphatic  name  and  privileges  of  the  Christian.  She 
had  been  educated  among  thoughtless,  but  amiable  people, 
and  received  her  first  impressions  of  the  importance  of 
Christianity,  from  a  missionary  who  accidentally  passed 
through  her  neighbourhood.  From  this  time  Agnes  Somer- 
ton,  for  that  was  her  name,  avowed  a  determination  to  per- 
sist in  her  researches  after  divine  truth,  until  her  mind 
received  full  conviction.  Her  mother  was  one  of  those 
Christians,  who  had  taken  up  the  profession,  without  any 
high  idea  of  its  requisitions.  She  was  by  nature  good  and 
amiable,  so  that  her  deficiencies  in  vital  piety  were  not  visible 
to  superficial  observers.  She  expressed  pleasure  at  her  daugh- 
ter's convictions,  but  still  was  terribly  afraid  that  she  might 
become  a  Presbyterian,  alias  a  fanatic.  u  That  sect  are  so 
unreasonably  strict,"  said  she,  "  and  deny  their  members 
so  many  innocent  amusements,  that  really  I  find  it  hard  to 
tolerate  them.  Some  of  my  near  connexions  have  joined 
it,  and  I  can  assure  you  they  are  unpleasant  inmates,  they 
have  such  a  cavilling  spirit.  They  can't  bear  cards, 
although  we  never  play  for  money  ;  they  won't  attend  the 
theatre,  or  dancing  assemblies ;  and  they  keep  the  Sabbath 
so  strangely,  that  it  is  any  thing  but  a  day  of  rest,  with  their 
Sunday  schools  and  their  prayer  meetings.  Now,  for  my 
part,  I  think  it  irreverent  to  be  always  bringing  religion 
forward:  it  is  a  sacred  thing,  and  ought  to  be  kept  apart 
from  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life."' 

You  may  be  sure  I  did  not  omit  the  faithful  expression  of 
my  own  principles,  on  this  occasion.  I  alleged  that  the 
Presbyterians  were  in  nothing  more  strict  than  evangelical 
Episcopalians.  That  religion  was  the  healing  branch 
which  should  be  thrown  into  all  the  bitter  fountains  of 
human  evil.  That  the  Sabbath  was  a  holy  day,  and  ought 
to  be  kept  sacred.     I  inquired  if  she  understood  the  com- 


LETTER  XXIV.  177 

raandment  as  enjoining  any  particular  portion  of  that  day  to 
be  consecrated,  while  the  rest  was  given  over  to  secular 
affairs  ?  I  urged,  that  to  the  truly  pious,  the  whole  Sabbath 
was  a  precious  season  of  rest  to  the  overtoiled  spirit.    That 
the  privilege  of  spending  that  day  in  holy  thoughts  and 
devout  exercises,  was  immeasurably  dear  to  the  true  disci- 
ple of  the  Lord  Jesus.     J  asked  my  friend — "  Would  you 
have  tired  of  the  Saviour,  had  it  been  your  lot  to  have  lived 
with  him  in  the  flesh  j  to  have  seen  and  heard  him  as  his 
disciples — as  Mary  and  Martha  did  ?"    She  readily  answer- 
ed, that  she  certainly  should  not  have  wearied  of  his  actual 
presence.     I  replied,  "Neither  should  we  become  tired  of 
holding  communion  with  him  by  faith,  at  his  own  appointed 
season.     If  we  spend  the  Sabbath  with  him,  he  will  spend 
the  rest  of  the  week  with  us  5  but  if  we  only  give  him  an 
hour  or  two  of  his  own  day,  we  have  no  right  to  expect  his 
abiding  presence  during  our  season  of  worldly  employment." 
As  for  balls  and  plays,  I  observed  that  they  were  not  so 
much  prohibited  by  any  rules  of  the  church,  as  that  people 
who  were  capable  of  appreciating   the  joys  of   religion, 
wanted  no   fictitious  aid   to  promote  cheerfulness.     That 
they  rejected  spontaneously,  and  of  free  choice,  those  plea- 
sures which  took  away  their  thoughts  from  holy  things.    "  As 
for  all  that,"  said  my  friend,  "  I  am  free  to  say,  that  I 
have  done  very  well  without  it,  and  wish  to  continue  as  I 
am.     I  have  heard,  indeed,  that  some  Episcopalian  minis- 
ters are  becoming  strict  in  these  matters,  but  I  am  glad  I 
don't  belong  to  any  of  their  churches.     Our  pastor  is  an 
excellent  man,  and  nobody  ever  heard  him  object  to  an 
innocent  game  at  cards,  or  balls,  and  plays.     He  says  the 
theatre  is  very  improving  to  the  manners  and  understanding, 
besides  affording  the  purest  standard  for  pronunciation  and 
grammar."     To  all  this,  I  vainly  attempted  to  apply  com- 
mon sense,  and  even  common  piety;  but  I  was  pleased  to 
find  that  Agnes  listened  approvingly,  and  when  we  parted, 


178  LETTER  XXIV. 

asked  me  to  correspond  with  her  on  the  subject  of  her  new 
convictions.  To  this  I  readily  agreed  ;  but  after  replying 
to  three  or  four  of  my  letters,  in  the  free,  fluent  language  of 
the  heart,  she  suddenly  discontinued  her  communications. 
I  was  told  that  her  mother  prohibited  our  correspondence, 
on  the  plea  that  I  was  teaching  Agnes  a  religion  so  different 
from  her  own,  that  she  would  have  no  pleasure  in  her 
daughter's  conversion.  I  sighed  at  this  intelligence,  and 
continued  to  pray  fervently,  that  both  mother  and  daughter 
might  be  guided  in  the  right  way. 

A  fortnight  ago,  I  heard  that  Agnes  had  been  in  a  gradual 
decline,  which  had  been  overlooked  by  her  friends,  until 
the  disease  had  triumphed  over  her  native  strength  of  con- 
stitution. I  hastened  to  the  house,  and  found  the  family 
in  that  state  of  overpowering  terror  and  affliction,  which 
sufficiently  proves  the  want  of  spiritual  strength  to  sustain 
the  evils  of  life.  Prosperity  had  kept  off  serious  thoughts, 
till  their  minds  had  become  unable  to  bear  them.  The 
mother  wrung  her  hands  in  agony,  and  exclaimed,  "  Oh, 
my  Agnes  ! — Tell  me,  do  you  think  her  in  danger?"  Alas, 
my  first  view  of  the  transparent  skin,  the  hectic  glow  ;  the 
first  sound  of  the  sepulchral  voice;  the  tightened  breath, 
which  plainly  indicaled  decay  in  the  seat  of  respiration — 
all  spoke  too  plainly  to  allow  me  to  conceal  the  truth  for  a 
moment.  "  You  must  lose  your  child  for  the  present,  but 
you  will  be  reunited  at  no  distant  period,  never  to  endure 
separation  again,"  was  my  reply  to  the  distracted  mother. 
"  Oh  I"  said  she,  "  I  cannot  live  without  her  :  what  shall  I 
have  to  sweeten  life  when  she  is  gone  ?"  "  Resignation," 
replied  I,  "  will  make  your  grief  endurable.  Have  you  not 
received  great  and  continued  good  from  your  God,  and 
can  you  not  now  submit  to  whatever  evil  he  may  choose 
to  send  you?"  "Oh  no,  no!"  replied  she,  I  have  not 
learnt  to  submit  to  evil:  my  religion  has  taught  me  to 
be  thankful  for  benefits,  but  that  was  when  I  thought  they 


LETTER  XXIV.  179 

would  never  be  withdrawn.    I  am  sure  I  have  never  missed 
a  night,  for  twenty  years,  returning  thanks  in  the  very 
same  words  for  all  my  blessings,  and  I  have  often  done  that, 
when  my  heart  was  very  full  of  cares  and  fears  about  some 
of  my  worldly  affairs,  but  still  I  offered  up  thanks,  because 
I  thought  such  an  expression  of  gratitude  would  save  my 
blessings  from  being  taken  away.''     "  God  loves  a  grateful 
heart,"  said  1,  "  but  I  fear  your  thanksgiving  was  not  of  the 
right   sort   to   be   acceptable."      "  Why   not  ?"   said   she 
quickly,  "  when  my  thanks  were  offered  up  in  the  prescribed 
language  of  the  church  to  which  I  belong  ?     Nobody  can 
accuse  me  of  having  neglected  any  of  its  observances,  and 
poor  Agnes  has  been  still  more  strict.  Often  have  I  known 
her  to  come  home  from  a  ball  or  play,  fatigued  to  death, 
and  yet  she  would  not  go  to  sleep  until  somebody  had  read 
to  her  a  chapter  in  the  Bible,  and  a  form  of  prayer.     She 
has  been  exemplary  in  performing  her  religious  duties,  1 
assure  you ;  but  her  nerves  are  affected,  poor  child,  and  she 
talks  in  the  most  distressing  manner  about  her  sins.     I  tell 
her,  that  I  am  the  best  judge  of  her  conduct,  and  I  have 
never  known  her  to  commit  any  sins.*     To  be  sure,  there 
is  original  sin,  which  every  one  partakes  of,  but  we  are 
given  to  understand  that  the  blood  of  Jesus  washes  away  that 
stain." 

1  will  not  detain  you  longer  with  the  detail  of  these  melan- 
choly errors,  but  will  proceed  to  describe  the  situation  of 
the  poor  young  woman  herself.  She  pressed  my  hand 
silently,  when  I  took  a  seat  beside  her ;  her  countenance 
underwent  a  sad  variety  of  changeful  expressions,  in  which 
I  read  plainly  all  the  agonies  of  retrospection.  At  length 
she  spoke — "You  warned  me  faithfully,"  said  she;  "I 
acquit  you  of  having  any  share  in  my  ruin."  Oh,  what 
must  have  been  her  feelings  at  that  moment !  "  Is  your  pros- 


Fact. 


1 80  LETTER  XXIV. 

pect  dark?"  asked  I.  "  As  dark  as  remorse  and  fruitless 
conviction  can  make  it,"  said  she  with  a  burst  of  tears.  "  I 
awake  from  a  dream  of  error  and  delusion,  to  contemplate 
the  awful  certainty  of  being  weighed  in  the  balance  and 
found  wanting.  Conscience,  like  a  lagger  in  duty,  now 
shows  me  what  I  have  left  undone  :  oh,  that  I  had  listened 
to  its  still  small  voice,  when  it  first  whispered  truth  to  my 
heart.  But  folly  had  sounded  her  tocsin,  and  all  remon- 
strance was  vain.  Oh,"  added  she  with  sudden  and  awful 
animation — "  Oh  that  I  could  at  this  moment  assemble  the 
young,  the  thoughtless,  and  the  vain,  around  my  dying 
bed ;  I  would  thrill  to  the  centre  of  their  hearts,  a  warning 
that  could  never  be  forgotten.  I  would  say  to  them,  i  Be- 
hold the  fiuits  of  folly,  and  see  the  end  of  fashion  !'  That 
idol,  like  Juggernaut  in  his  triumphal  car,  crushes  beneath 
his  armed  wheels,  the  wretches  who  prostrate  themselves 
at  his  shrine.  Behold  a  victim,  who,  forearmed  and  fore- 
warned, has  yet  offered  up  her  soul  to  the  monster  !  I  go  to 
receive  the  award  of  my  deeds,  done  in  the  flesh  against  the 
warning  of  the  Spirit.  Oh,  let  none  suppose  that  an  out- 
ward conformity  to  the  rules  of  any  church,  is  religion.  I 
have  mistaken  the  shadow  for  the  substance ;  and  oh  !  that 
I  could  be  the  last  victim  of  such  delusion.  Bring  forth  the 
trappings  of  fashion — the  wages  of  sin — the  price  of  my 
immortal  soul !  See  here," — and  she  held  up  various  arti- 
cles of  decoration — "  See  here  :  for  this,  and  this,  and  such 
paltry,  contemptible  trifles,  did  I  forsake  the  path  of  salva- 
tion, and  follow  the  multitude  to  destruction.  Yes,  the  road 
to  ruin  is  indeed  a  beaten  track,  and  many  there  be  that 
follow  it ;  while  that  narrow  path  that  Ieadeth  to  eternal 
life,  has  few}  and  far  between,  along  its  peaceful  track.  Oh, 
that  I  had  been  one  of  those  few  ! — I  might  have  been  ;  for 
I  had  warning — timely  warning,"  said  she,  turning  to  me. 
*  But  it  is  too  late  :  the  wheel  has  but  few  revolutions  to 
make  around  the  cistern,  before  the  cord  will  be  broken, 


LETTER  XXIV.  181 

and  the  spirit  released  for  ever  !  Mother,"  said  she,  turning 
to  her  afflicted  parent  who  just  then  crept  into  the  room — 
"  mother,  I  request  that  all  my  trinkets  may  be  sold  for  the 
benefit  of  the  poor;  after  having  destroyed  my  soul  let  them 
do  some  good  in  this  wicked  world ;  and  oh,  dear  mother, 
bring  up  my  little  sister  to  dress  plainly,  and  not  to  love 
pleasure  as  I  have  done ;  make  her  sensible  from  my  exam- 
ple, of  the  ruinous  consequences  of  sin ;  for,  oh  mother  ! 
though  your  kindness  has  given  it  another  name,  my  life 
has  been  spent  in  sin.  Oh,  the  warnings  that  I  have  neglected 
— the  spiritual  evidences  that  1  have  resisted.  Now  they  all 
appear  perfectly  comprehensible  to  me  ;  now  the  veil  of 
vanity  is  removed.  Oh  how  slight  is  its  texture — how  lighter 
than  gossamer  its  materials  !  and  yet  it  obscured  my  mental 
vision  as  effectually  as  midnight  darkness  :  it  concealed  truth 
from  my  mind,  until  it  is  too  late  to  derive  any  benefit  from 
its  holy  radiance." 

She  continued  to  speak  in  this  manner,  until  a  violent 
paroxysm  of  the  consumptive  cough  impeded  her  utterance. 
The  cough  brought  on  a  discharge  of  blood  from  the  lungs, 
and  the  physician  forbade  further  exertion  of  speech. 
But  oh,  the  eloquent  agony  of  that  silent  countenance ! 
I  knelt  beside  her,  and  prayed,  but  she  made  signs  that 
prayer  was  unavailing.  Yet  I  could  see  that  her  own  mind 
was  engaged  in  agonizing  supplication.  Her  eyes  were 
upraised,  and  cold  drops  of  dew  stood  on  her  livid  brow. 
One  of  her  ornaments,  a  diamond  ring,  still  hung  on  her 
emaciated  finger.  She  took  it  off,  and  pointing  to  a  Bible 
which  lay  on  the'table,  put  the  ring  in  my  hand.  I  asked 
her  if  she  wished  the  ring  to  be  disposed  of,  and  its  proceeds 
spent  in  Bibles  for  the  destitute  ?  she  signified  her  assent  by 
a  significant  gesture.  She  then  opened  a  casket,  which 
stood  near  her,  and  took  out  a  splendid  watch  and  seals, 
and  at  the  same  moment  opening  the  Bible,  she  laid  them 
on  this  sentence — "  Go  preach  my  gospel  unto  all  nations. " 
Q 


182 


LETTER  XXIV. 


I  asked  if  she  gave  it  to  the  missionary  cause  ?  Another 
signal  of  assent  closed  our  conference,  for  she  soon  fell  back 
in  a  state  of  insensibility,  from  which  she  never  entirely 
recovered.  But  oh,  how  different  was  the  expression  of  her 
dying  countenance,  from  that  of  your  mother,  my  Mary. 
The  one  was  a  foretaste  of  heaven,  the  other  betokened 
fearful  doubts  and  agonies.  I  cannot  describe  the  situation 
of  the  mother,  when  all  was  over.  She  then  awoke 
to  a  full  extent  of  misery.  "  My  child  is  gone,  and  they 
say  she  is  not  gone  to  heaven !  How  is  that  ? — Was  she 
not  a  Christian? — Am  not  I  a  Christian? — Who  dares 
deny  it  ?  I  am  a  believer,  and  will  not  suffer  myself  to  be 
shaken  by  fanatical  reveries  !"  Such  were  her  ravings  for  a 
time ;  but  I  left  her  completely  humbled,  and  imploring 
every  one  to  pray  for  her,  that  she  might  be  converted  to 
true  religion. 

Alas,  how  common  a  case  is  Agnes  Somerton's  !  How 
many  deceive  themselves  to  the  last  moment,  with  the  hope, 
that  they  at  least  (if  no  others)  will  be  permitted  to  serve 
God  and  Mammon ;  to  carry  divine  truth  about,  without 
using  it ;  to  believe  in  Christ,  and  yet  not  serve  him  ;  to 
have  the  reward  promised  to  faithful  servants,  without 
having  done  any  thing  to  merit  it.  Oh,  could  such  people 
be  assured,  that  they  cannot  have  their  good  things  in  this 
world  and  the  next  too  5  that  they  must  serve  God  dili- 
gently, or  they  will  not  receive  the  wages  of  service  !  They 
must  choose  between  time  and  eternity  5  and  when  their 
choice  is  made,  they  must  abide  by  it.  Choose  now,  my 
dear  Mary,  and  let  yours  be  a  right  choice.  O,  may  you 
have  grace  given  you  to  abide  by  it,  prays 

Your  true  friend. 


(   133  ) 


LETTER  XXV. 

Female  Attainments  in  Science  and  Literature. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

Science  is  now  so  much  simplified,  that  women  have  time 
as  well  as  talents  to  become  acquainted  with  its  elements. 
Joyce's  Scientific  Dialogues  contain  much  that  is  agreeable 
and  useful;  and  I  would  recommend  their  attentive  perusal 
to  all  my  young  female  friends.     Other  elementary  works 
are  daily  pouring  from  the  pr?ss,  in  this  prolific  age;  and 
doubtless,  even  while  I  am  penning  this  sentence,  new  efforts 
are  making  to  smooth  the  path  of  knowledge,  so  as  to  render 
its    high  places  accessible  to    female  talent  and  industry. 
There  is  something  delightful  in  the  free,  familiar  exercise, 
of  the  rational  faculties.     The  utmost  art  of  education  can 
do  no  more  than  excite  a  desire  for  improvement,  and  form 
the  habit  of  persevering  application.     No  human  skill  can 
impart  knowledge,  unless  there  is  a  predisposition  in  the 
mind    to  receive  it.     The  aim  of  the   teacher,  therefore, 
should  be  to  awaken  intelligent  curiosity  first,  and  after- 
wards furnish  it  proper  means  of  gratification.     It  is  easy, 
when  a  right  method  is  adopted,  to  awaken  the  attention  of 
a  mere  child,  to  some  of  the  most  important  facts  in  science 
or  philosophy.     But  to  do  this,  the  teacher  must  be  familiar 
with  the  things  to  be  taught.     There  must  be  no  boggling 
or  confusion  in  the  explanations  given,  or  the  mind  will  be 
perplexed  instead  of  enlightened.     I  have  explained  to  a 
child  of  seven  years  old,  the  whole  Copernican   system, 
with  the  aid  of  a  ball,  a  knitting-needle,  and  a  candle  to 
represent  the  sun.     But  the  faculties  of  children  must  be 
developed  by  conversation,  or  they  will  shrink  from  under- 
taking these  things.     A  judicious,  intelligent  mother  may 
prepare  her  child  for  receiving  eternal  benefit  from  an  ordi- 


184  LETTER  XXV. 

nary  system  of  instruction.  But  it  is  very  discouraging  to 
teachers,  to  find  the  children  intrusted  to  their  care,  with 
minds  as  it  were  hermetically  sealed  to  knowledge,  from 
their  having  been  left  undisturbed  to  their  own  puerilities. 
Parents  should  converse  on  all  improvable  topics  with  their 
children.  They  should  ascertain  the  innate  bias  both  of 
mind  and  disposition,  so  as  to  prepare  as  soon  as  possible 
for  that  system  of  culture,  which  is  to  correct  the  evil,  and 
mature  the  good  of  each  individual. 

There  is  at  present,  a  general  outcry  against  teachers, 
throughout  our  country,  and  it  is  true  that  those  who  under- 
take this  important  charge,  are  seldom  duly  qualified  ;  but 
it  is  also  true,  that  the  early  education  of  children  is  so  much 
neglected,  that  they  go  to  school  with  habits  little  favourable 
to  improvement.  They  come  to  their  teachers  with  self- 
will  strong  enough  to  overthrow  all  ordinary  restraints  ; 
and  minds  so  inured  to  ignorance,  that  the  desire  of  intellec- 
tual improvement  can  scarcely  be  awakened.  Idleness,  the 
fruitful  source  of  vice,  has  settled  like  an  incubus  on  the 
dormant  faculties;  and  this  spell  must  be  broken,  before 
there  can  be  a  hope  of  kindling  the  torch  of  intellect.  This 
is  the  province,  not  of  the  tuloY,  but  of  the  parent ;  and  the 
blame  of  many  an  utter  failure  in  education,  may  be  traced 
back  to  the  mismanagement  of  early  childhood. 

I  once  heard  a  lady  allege,  in  extenuation  of  some  repre- 
hensible act  of  indulgence  to  her  son,  that  he  was  soon  going 
to  school,  poor  boy,  where  he  would  be  kept  strict  enough. 
And  some  parents  give  their  children  such  unlimited  license 
during  their  vacation,  that  they  go  back  to  school  totally 
unhinged  from  every  salutary  restriction,  and  prompt  enough 
to  rebel  against  efficient  discipline.  I  do  not  in  the  least 
doubt,  but  this  error  is  the  cause  of  the  insubordination  so 
notorious  in  Virginia  seminaries  of  learning.  The  youth  of 
our  state  are  accustomed  from  infancy  to  have  their  whims 
gratified,  and  their  irregular  desires  indulged  by  the  menials 


LETTER  XXV.  185 

who  swarm  around  them.  Parents  are  not  sufficiently 
aware,  that  habits  of  tyranny  as  well  as  idleness,  are  formed 
by  their  children  in  the  domestic  circle.  They  should 
carefully  prevent  these  mischiefs,  by  keeping  their  offspring 
as  much  as  possible  in  their  presence,  and  thus  counteract 
the  baleful  effects  of  our  national  misfortune.  Children  will 
exercise  self-will,  if  they  are  not  sedulously  guarded  against 
it,  and  the  peculiarities  of  the  domestic  establishments  of 
Virginia  give  free  scope  to  this  propensity.  The  unfortunate 
beings  who  surround  our  homes,  and  constitute  a  portion  of 
every  family,  are  by  nature  and  habit  the  fosterers  of  moral 
evil.  In  every  social  circle,  the  tenants  of  the  cradle  and 
the  nursery  are  committed  to  their  charge.  The  seeds  of 
vice  are  scattered  secretly  with  the  very  aliment  that  sustains 
life.  The  danger  is  imminent,  and  the  eyes  of  those  appoint- 
ed to  ward  it  off,  are  too  often  closed  in  careless  supineness 
or  infatuated  ignorance.  It  is  here  that  female  influence  is 
so  immeasurably  important.  The  tender  and  judicious 
mother  feels  in  her  heart's  core  the  threatened  evil,  as  it 
approaches  insidiously  towards  the  children  of  her  love.  She 
guards  every  avenue  with  watchful  discretion,  and  hallows 
with  her  prayers  the  cherished  circle,  round  which  her 
thoughts  and  affections  hover  ceaselessly.  She  labours  to 
impart  to  her  servants  the  fundamental  rules  of  morality,  and 
opens  to  them  the  source  of  divine  truth.  She  prepares  and 
enforces  a  code  of  regulations,  which  prevent  the  most 
dreaded  evils  to  which  her  offspring  are  exposed.  It  is  her 
constant  aim  to  widen  and  deepen  every  impression  of  virtue 
that  their  minds  are  susceptible  of,  and  in  due  time  she 
forms  for  herself  a  set  of  honest,  respectable  domestics,  who, 
together  with  her  children,  "  look  up  to  her,  and  call  her 
blessed.'' 

There  is  no  evil  so  great  as  not  to  admit  of  alleviation; 
and  it  is  my  determined  opinion,  that  females  have  it  in  their 
power,  not  only  to  mitigate  the  grievances  of  slavery  to  the 
Q2 


1 86  LETTER  XXV. 

unfortunate  beings  themselves,  but  to  prevent  the  deleterious 
influence  of  their  example  on  the  domestic  circle.  They 
should  instruct  their  servants  carefully  in  morality  and  reli- 
gion. They  should  treat  them  with  scrupulous  kindness; 
but  carefully  keep  them  from  temptation,  and  give  them 
constant  employment.  At  the  same  time,  they  should  have 
their  own  little  independent  interests,  and  their  owners 
should  advance  these  whenever  they  possibly  can  ;  so  as  to 
let  them  perceive  that  they  are  regarded  as  fellow  beings.  Of 
all  the  sources  of  mismanagement  most  prolific  of  mischief, 
the  too  most  common  one  is,  incessant  scolding.  I  know 
families  where  this  evil  has  reached  such  a  pitch,  as  to 
destroy  domestic  quiet.  The  truth  is,  that  women  find  it 
difficult  and  troublesome  to  manage  their  servants,  and  they 
fall  into  the  obvious  mistake  of  continual  reproof.  There 
never  was,  and  never  will  be,  the  slightest  success  attending 
this  method.  On  the  contrary,  the  mischief  is  obvious  and 
incalculable.  I  cannot  believe,  that  any  rational  being  ever 
seriously  contended  for  the  expediency  of  this  unnatural  plan 
of  inducing  obedience.  But  it  is  easier  to  indulge  the  oft-excited 
temper,  than  to  restrain  it,  and  nothing  is  plainer  than  the 
usual  excuse — "  I  must  reprove  when  they  deserve  it,  and  my 
servants  always  deserve  reproof."  Now  to  me,  this  declara- 
tion is  equivalent  to  an  acknowledgement  of  incapacity.  If 
the  servants  are  rightly  managed,  they  will  not  need  reproof. 
One  fact  is  indisputable,  and  that  is,  that  incessant  scolding 
will  make  the  best  servants  bad,  instead  of  making  the 
worst  good ;  ay,  and  it  will  make  the  best  temper  bad,  to 
indulge  this  mistaken  habit.  My  neighbour  Aspasia  never 
fails  to  entertain  me,  when  T  visit  her,  with  a  catalogue  of 
the  faults  she  has  to  contend  with  in  her  servants.  She 
gives  me  to  understand,  that  she  is  an  excellent  manager 
of  servants,  but  that  she  has  unluckily  the  worst  set  in 
the  world  to  manage.  "  Now  if  I  had  such  domestics  as 
Mrs.  — i — ,5>  says  she,  u  I  would  get  a  great  deal  more  out 


LETTER  XXV.  1 87 

of  them  than  she  does.  I  could  do  wonders  with  them  ;  and 
as  it  is,  their  mistress  is  a  poor  manager.  She  indulges  a 
great  deal  too  much,  and  never  reproves  at  all." 

It  so  happened,  that  Aspasia  procured  one  of  Mrs. ?s 

servants;  one,  too,  who  had  borne  an  excellent  character. 
After  a  week  or  two  of  trial,  I  went  to  congratulate  her  on 
having  succeeded  in  her  wish.  I  pleased  myself  as  I  went 
along,  with  the  anticipated  good  humour  of  my  neighbour, 
and  hoped  I  should  see  at  leasf'one  pleasant  countenance 
among  her  attendants.  When  I  entered  the  house,  the  first 
person  I  met  was  the  servant  above  mentioned,  whom  I  had 
often  seen  in  the  dwelling  of  her  former  mistress.  She 
looked  gloomy  and  discontented,  her  appearance  was  sluttish, 
and  there  was  an  air  of  sullenness  about  her,  which  betokened 
intended  resistance.  By  and  by  Aspasia  came,  and  her 
first  words  announced  the  disappointment  I  was  beginning 

to  anticipate.     "  Mrs. must  be  a  strange  sort  of  a 

manager,"  observed  she,  after  the  first  salutations  were  over. 
Cel  think  the  servant  I  have  got  from  her  is,  without  excep- 
tion, the  worst  I  ever  had.  At  first  she  was  tolerable,  but 
I  soon  saw  her  cloven  foot,  and  when  I  told  her  that  such 
behaviour  would  not  do  for  me,  she  burst  into  tears,  and 
cried  like  a  baby,  saying  that  she  had  never  been  used  to 
scolding,  and  it  would  break  her  heart.  I  was  so  provoked 
at  this,  that  I  could  not  restrain  myself. — e  Heart,  indeed  !' 
said  I,  'and  pray  what  business  have  you  with  a  heart? — 
are  you  not  my  slave  ?  and  cannot  I  do  as  I  please  with 

you  ?  But  I  suppose  Mrs. consulted  your  feelings,  and 

made  an  intimate  friend  of  you.  If  that  is  the  way  in  which 
she  gets  a  character  for  good  management,  she  is  welcome  to 
keep  it  for  me.  I  know  too  well  what  belongs  to  my 
own  dignity  to  put  up  with  such  sentimental  nonsense.* 
In  short,  I  won't  tell  you  all  my  trials  with  the  creature; 
but  she  has  been  subjected  to  my  usual  course  of  discipline, 
and  has  proved  so  refractory,  that  I  shall  part  with  her  as 


138  LETTER   XXVI. 

soon  as  possible.     Mrs. must  never  talk  to  me  about 

management  again,"  &c. 

I  will  spare  you  the  rest  of  Aspasia's  rant,  for  truly  it 
made  me  uncomfortable  for  a  whole  day.  She  is  one  of 
those  self- admirers,  who  will  never  allow  herself  to  be  sur- 
passed in  any  object  of  her  ambition.  It  has  long  been  her 
dearest  wish  to  be  thought  a  good  housewife,  and  she  mis- 
takes self-approbation  for  success.  Though  her  fortune  has 
been  gradually  diminishirfg,  and  her  domestic  comforts 
decreasing  under  her  much  vaunted  system,  she  still  adheres 
to  it,  and  attributes  the  success  of  those  who  pursue  a  dif- 
ferent method,  to  what  she  calls  good  luck.  The  truth  is, 
that  she  expects  too  much  from  her  servants,  in  return  for 
their  daily  bread  and  yearly  clothing.  As  their  work  serves 
her  to  boast  of,  they  must  do  a  great  deal,  or  she  cannot  keep 
up  her  reputation  as  a  good  housewife.  With  all  her  powers 
of  coercion,  she  cannot  get  more  than  a  certain  quantity  of 
labour  from  them;  and,  as  that  is  not  enough  for  her  to 
establish  a  high  character  for  skill  in  domestic  management, 
she  gives  way  to  spleen  and  mortification.  I  will  conclude 
this  letter  by  asking  you  to  compare  Aspasia  witli  Emilia. 

I  am  ever  yours. 


LETTER  XXVI. 

Misery  of  Discordant  Marriages. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

Of  all  the  evils  attendant  on  discordant  marriages,  one  of 
the  most  formidable  is,  the  inevitable  effect  of  such  exam- 
ples on  the  offspring  of  ill-assorted  unions. 

Children  are  inestimable  blessings  in  happy  wedlock ; 


LETTER  XXVI.  139 

but  they  enhance  the  miseries  of  the  discordant  couple. 
With  the  amiable,  they  are  additional  bonds  of  union ; 
but  with  the  contentious,  they  are  sources  of  discord.  I  can 
scarcely  imagine  a  scene  of  greater  misery,  than  is  daily 
exhibited  around  the  fireside  of  a  quarrelsome  married  pair. 
The  most  minute  trifles  are  sufficient  to  give  a  sombre 
colouring  to  the  daily  intercourse  of  persons,  who  should  be 
living  springs  of  comfort  to  each  other.  Parents  sit  in 
moody  silence,  or  burst  into  open  objurgations.  Children 
cower  around  the  melancholy  circle,  as  if  afraid  to  bring 
themselves  into  notice,  lest  the  collected  vials  of  wrath 
should  descend  upon  them.  Then  there  is  too  often  a  spirit 
of  manoeuvring  encouraged,  among  people  who  find  it  a 
matter  of  supreme  difficulty  to  keep  in  favour  with  their 
rulers.  Servants  exercise  a  low  cunning  to  gain  the  good 
will  of  both  parties,  and  children  are  too  apt  to  imbibe  this 
contagion  from  their  attendants,  probably  their  companions 
also.  Even  the  lisping  babe  becomes  aware,  that  to  appear 
fond  of  one  parent,  is  the  surest  way  to  make  the  other 
angry.  Thus  from  infancy  the  habit  of  dissimulation  is 
implanted — that  habit  which  overthrows  all  that  is  generous 
and  noble  in  the  expanding  heart.  "  Mamma  won't  love 
me,  if  I  love  papa,"  was  the  innocent  reply  of  a  child, 
when  asked  if  it  did  not  want  to  see  its  absent  father.  The 
longer  a  youthful  mind  can  be  kept  in  ignorance  of  the 
existence  of  such  a  passion  as  hatred,  the  hetter  its  chance 
of  escaping  the  contamination  of  moral  evil.  But  when  the 
passion  is  in  daily  and  hourly  exercise  before  the  develop- 
ing faculties  of  children,  they  become  infected  with  its 
venom  by  inevitable  consequence.  It  is  said  that  the 
offspring  of  the  game  cock,  inherit  turbulence  of  spirit  from 
the  egg-shell,  and  contend  fiercely  for  supremacy  in  the 
mother's  nest.  This  is  too  apt  to  be  the  case  with  the 
children  of  quarrelsome  parents;  they  become  adepts  in 
recrimination  and  self-justification,  before  their  minds  have 


190  LETTER  XXVI. 

been  exercised  in  any  useful  and  profitable  train  of  thought. 
If  there  should  unfortunately  exist  in  the  united  head  of  a 
family,  any  propensity  to  contend  about  rights,  these  con- 
tentions should   be  scrupulously  kept    from   the  children. 
But  I  have  seen  a  fond  mother  give  mental  poison  to  her 
child,  when  she  would  have  shrunk  with  agony  from  any 
act  which  she   understood  to  be  injurious  to  its  health  or 
happiness.     Social  discord  is  a  wide-spreading,  deep-rooted 
evil :  it  is  the  mildew  that  blights  the  tender  shoots  of  moral 
worth,  and  nips  in  the  bud  the  blossoms  of  contentment. 
No  family  can  have  room  to  exercise  domestic  virtues,  when 
the  fireside   harmony  is    profaned    by    unholy    sacrifices. 
Fierce  anger,  gloomy  moroseness,  despotism,  and  its  accom- 
panying evils,  subvert  social  order,  and  reverse  the  decrees 
of  omnipotent  wisdom.     I  have  known  a  whole  family  to 
be  so  infected  by  the  contagion  of  domestic  discord,  as  to 
grow   up    with  an  utter  incapacity  of  enjoying  happiness. 
Their  minds  had  been  so  inured  to  the  habitual  discomfits 
attendant  on  their  early  days,  that  they  could  not  possess 
their  souls  in   peace,  under  circumstances  favourable  to  its 
enjoyment.     They  were  continually  suspecting  their  asso- 
ciates  of  injurious  designs,  and  misconstruing  trifling  and 
unintentional    omissions   into  serious   deficiencies   of  duty. 
Their  friends  were  constrained  to  practice  so  much  minute 
circumspection  of  conduct,  that  they  became  weary  of  their 
responsibilities.     This  weariness  of  course  was  discovered, 
and  drew  forth  stern  reproaches;  then  followed  altercation, 
which  wrought  out  its  usual  consequence,  total  alienation  of 
regard.      These   unfortunate  victims  to  early  mismanage- 
ment, were  wont  to  complain  (with  justice)  that  they  had 
no  friends;  and  who  can  maintain  a  friendship  under  such 
tyrannical  requisitions?     Unless  the  courtesies  of  friendship 
are  strictly  reciprocal,  the  tie  will  inevitably  be  loosened,  if 
not  dissolved. 

One  of  the  surest  signs  of  predominant  self-love,  may  be 


LETTER  XXVI.  191 

discerned  in  that  restless  fear  of  not  being  sufficiently  ap- 
preciated, which  is  so  common  with  suspicious  people. 
When  there  is  a  proper  degree  of  humility  in  the  heart,  there 
will  be  no  outward  anxieties  respecting  the  degree  of  cour- 
tesy observed  by  the  world.  When  I  hear  people  accusing 
others  of  pride,  I  always  set  it  down  as  a  proof  that  they 
have  a  great  deal  themselves.  For  if  they  had  not  expected 
a  great  deal  of  respectful  attention  themselves,  they  would 
not  have  been  led  to  remark  the  deficiencies  of  their  asso- 
ciates. I  have  sometimes  amused  myself  by  remarking  the 
behaviour  of  two  classes  of  people  brought  together  by 
casualty  ;  each  prepared  to  accuse  the  other  of  pride,  be- 
cause each  was  unwilling  to  render  such  a  measure  of  atten- 
tion as  the  other  exacted.  A  little  self-examination  would 
have  rectified  both  errors,  by  discovering  the  source  of 
them.  Why  am  I  so  suspicious  of  these  people  ?  and  why 
am  [  hurt  because  they  behave  haughtily  to  me  ?  The 
true  answer  would  be,  because  I  think  a  great  deal  of  my- 
self, and  claim  more  respect  than  these  people  are  willing 
to  pay ! 

How  many  mistakes  might  be  rectified  by  a  little  know- 
ledge of  one's  own  motives.  Self-knowledge  is  indispensable 
to  true  wisdom.  All  the  information  in  the  world,  abstracted 
from  self,  will  not  aid  us  in  forming  a  just  estimate  of  our- 
selves, without  which  we  cannot  possibly  be  just  to  others. 
How  many  evils  grow  out  of  this  species  of  ignorance !  It 
is  the  true  source  of  conjugal  discord,  and  all  its  accom- 
panying miseries.  If  every  married  pair  could  be  brought 
to  practise  self-examination  rigidly,  there  would  be  an  end 
of  recrimination,  which  is  the  fruitful  source  of  discord. 
Self-accusation  would  be  substituted  in  its  place,  and  each 
party  would  find  with  surprise,  that  instead  of  carrying  the 
war  into  the  enemy's  country,  they  must  maintain  it  at 
home,  against  their  own  internal  enemies.  I  once  knew  an 
instance  of  a  married  pair,  who  had  rendered  themselves 


192  LETTER  XXVi. 

obnoxious  to  the  whole  circle  of  their  friends  and  kindred, 
by  their  incessant  wrangling.  Every  meal  was  attended 
with  such  interruptions  to  harmony,  that  even  the  nearest 
family  connexions  declined  partaking  their  hospitality. 
"  Better  the  dinner  of  herbs,  where  love  is,  than  the  stalled 
ox,  and  hatred  therewith" — was  remembered  and  quoted  by 
all  their  acquaintance.  And  truly,  it  was  almost  impossible 
to  avoid  touching  on  some  subject  of  contention.  You 
might  drag  the  attention  of  this  couple  for  a  moment,  as  far 
as  the  poles  from  the  subject  of  debate,  and  yet  they  would 
force  it  back  again  with  incredible  ingenuity.  One  gentle- 
man who  wished  to  dine  with  them,  bragged  that  he  would 
keep  the  peace  by  turning  the  subject  of  conversation  to 
Symme's  theory  of  the  earth.  Accordingly  he  explained, 
with  a  great  deal  of  interest,  the  imaginary  country  within 
the  excavated  poles,  and  kept  on  safe  ground  for  ten  or 
fifteen  minutes.  He  was  forced  to  pause,  however,  when 
he  had  literally  exhausted  himself  in  explanation.  The 
lady  immediately  observed  with  a  sigh,  that  she  should  like 
much  to  retreat  to  that  country,  if  she  could  be  assured  that 
none  of  her  troubles  would  follow  her.  She  looked  so 
significantly  at  her  husband,  that  he  could  not  resist  the 
appeal.  "  Oh,"  said  he,  u  that  is  the  very  place  I  should 
go  to  myself."  "  Then  I  should  stay  at  home,"  answered 
the  affectionate  wife.  The  gentleman  could  not  resist  the 
opportunity  of  saying  a  good  thing,  not  being  at  all  unwil- 
ling to  wound  their  feelings.  He  said  he  had  heard  of  the 
Irishman's  dividing  the  house  with  his  wife,  by  giving  her 
the  outside;  but  that  this  husband's  plan  was  certainly  more 
efficient — to  divide  the  earth  in  the  same  manner, — leaving 
his  wife  on  the  outside,  while  he  crept  into  the  snug  com- 
forts of  the  interior. 

This  wife  was  arrested  in  her  career  of  folly  and  wicked- 
ness by  hearing  a  sermon  upon  these  words — "  If  it  be  possi- 
ble, as  much  as  lieth  in  you,  live  peaceably  with  all  men." 


LETTER  XXVI.  193 

The  preacher  enlarged  on  the  possibility  of  living  peaceably, 
by  showing  how  self-denial  might  be  practised,  so  as  to  force 
the  most  irascible  temper  to  refrain  from  aggression.  The 
unhappy  wife  determined  to  try  this  expedient  with  her 
husband.  At  first  she  found  the  task  exceedingly  difficult. 
The  habit  of  self-defence  was  so  strong,  that  she  could  not 
immediately  check  the  words  that  rose  spontaneously  to  her 
tongue,  but  her  heart  was  seriously  impressed  with  a  sense 
of  past  error,  and  she  resolutely  undertook  to  subject  her 
tongue  to  rigid  control.  In  this  good  resolution  she  was 
aided  by  the  Spirit  of  God,  which  was  even  then,  though 
unknown  to  her,  at  work  in  her  heart.  Her  husband  was 
at  first  surprised,  and  afterwards  pleased,  with  her  amend- 
ment. He  was  not  an  intemperate  man,  and  his  temper 
of  course  was  not  entirely  brutalized.  He  became  aware 
that  he  too  had  been  in  fault,  and  finding  the  way  made 
smooth  for  him,  he  followed  the  example  of  his  wife.  In 
process  of  time,  they  became  a  peaceable,  amiable  couple, 
and  are  at  this  present  time  good  Christians  and  good  citi- 
zens; as  happy  in  each  other  as  if  they  had  never  been 
otherwise.  Their  first  child,  who,  unfortunately,  had  his 
temper  formed  while  their  discord  was  at  its  crisis,  has 
grown  up  very  unamiable,  and  of  course  unhappy.  The 
parents  are  fully  sensible  that  they  brought  this  evil  upon 
themselves ;  therefore  they  bear  it  patiently,  and  do  all  they 
can,  not  only  to  amend  their  eldest  born,  but  to  preserve 
the  others  from  similar  contagion. 

It  has  often  occurred  to  me,  while  listening  to  the  cavillers 
at  religion,  that  a  powerful  argument  in  favour  of  its  efficiency 
might  be  drawn  from  facts  of  a  similar  nature  to  the  one  I 
have  just  narrated.  Has  any  thing,  save  Christianity,  been 
yet  discovered,  of  sufficient  power  to  arrest  vice  in  its  mad 
career ;  and  to  turn  the  torrent  of  evil,  when  it  was  sweep- 
ing away  even  the  landmarks  from  the  human  heart,  and 
desolating  the  meager  virtues  implanted  there  by  nature? 
R 


194  LETTER  XXV r. 

Show  me  an  instance  of  reformation  from  habitual  vice, 
wrought  by  mere  human  powers,  and  I  will  then  accede  to 
the  "  Omnipotence  of  Reason,"  so  proudly  contended  for 
by  philosophers.  But  such  things  cannot  be  shown,  because 
they  do  not  exist.  I  have  known  instances  in  the  course  of 
my  experience,  of  amiable,  respectable  people,  falling  off 
through  temptation  from  their  virtuous  courses,  when  they 
were  not  upheld  by  religion.  And  I  have  known  instances 
where  vice  has  been  stopt  in  its  headlong  progress,  through 
the  instrumentality  of  the  vital  principle  of  Christianity. 

There  were  once  two  brothers,  to  whom  I  shall  give  the 
names  of  Marcus  and  Portius.  The  first  was  a  strictly 
moral  man;  the  last  had  fallen  into  dissolute  habits,  and  was 
losing  fast  the  respect  of  all  his  friends  and  kindred.  Mar- 
cus expostulated  with  his  brother,  and  talked  eloquently  of 
the  beauty  of  virtue  as  an  abstract  principle,  and  the  moral 
sublimity  of  an  upright  character.  Both  these  brothers 
were  ignorant  of  vital  religion.  In  process  of  time,  Portius 
wasted  his  substance  like  the  prodigal  in  Scripture,  and 
ended  a  course  of  riotous  living  in  poverty  and  neglect. 
Meanwhile  Marcus  arose  to  prosperity,  and  enjoyed  the 
respect  of  all  the  moral  part  of  society.  He  increased  his 
goods,  and  determined  that  his  soul  should  take  its  ease,  and 
enjoy  the  reward  of  his  good  conduct.  While  Portius  was 
undergoing  the  agonies  of  remorse,  with  scarcely  food  to 
sustain  life,  Marcus  was  opening  his  house  to  the  fashiona- 
ble and  wealthy,  who  did  him  honour  by  participating  in 
his  prosperity.  By  and  by  he  became  fond  of  the  social 
glass,  and  soon  learnt  to  extend  his  festive  enjoyments  to 
the  daily  potation  of  one  bottle,  which  his  companions 
affirmed  to  be  the  ultimatum  of  a  gentleman.  If  the  recol- 
lection of  his  former  advice  to  Portius  on  the  subject  of  tem- 
perance crossed  his  mind,  it  was  quieted  by  the  ready 
excuse,  that  Portius  was  too  poor  to  drink  wine,  and  Marcus 
himself  was  wealthy.     His  wealth   was  self-earned,  there- 


LETTER  XXVI.  195 

fore  he  had  a  right  to  spend  it  as  he  pleased.  For  a  long 
time  he  resisted  the  temptation  to  exceed  his  daily  bottle, 
and  even  went  so  far,  as  to  have  his  wine  decanted  into 
larger  bottles,  that  he  might  not  exceed  the  genteel  measure. 
Presently  he  became  bloated  and  unhealthy,  but  who  ever 
heard  of  good  wine,  taken  in  moderation,  disagreeing  with 
the  constitution?  While  this  deterioration  of  principle  was 
gradually  taking  place.  Porting  was  reviving,  under  the 
influence  of  religious  conviction,  from  a  state  of  almost  des- 
pairing humiliation.  He  felt  the  weight  of  his  sins,  and 
sought  Him  who  has  promised  rest  to  the  weary-laden. 
There  had  been  no  intercourse  between  the  brothers  for 
many  years;  as  Portius  had  forsaken  friends  and  kindred 
to  carry  on  his  vicious  practices.  At  length  the  repentant 
prodigal  returned  full  of  rejoicing  to  the  land  that  gave  him 
birth.  "  I  will  seek  ont  my  dear  Marcus,"  said  he,  "  now 
that  I  am  not  unworthy  to  associate  with  his  virtues.  We 
will  live  and  die  together.  If  he  has  not  found  out  the  way 
of  truth  before,  I  will  show  it  him,  in  return  for  his  former 
endeavours  to  lead  me  aright."  Alas !  these  reveries  were 
soon  at  an  end.  Portius  arrived  at  his  brother's  grand  house, 
and  found  it  full  of  minions  of  the  law,  who  were  appro- 
priating all  its  gorgeous  furniture  to  rapacious  creditors. 
Marcus  had  just  breathed  his  last ;  and  Portius,  unknown 
to  any  present,  pressed  in  to  see  the  bloated  and  disfigured 
corse.  "What  was  the  cause  of  his  death?''  asked  he. 
One  of  the  bystanders  whispered,  "  He  died  of  apoplexy, 
the  consequence  of  intemperate  habits.  He  has  been  a 
lover  of  wine  for  many  years,  and  seldom  took  less  than  two 
bottles  a  day.  Poor  fellow !  that,  and  hardened  infidelity, 
were  his  greatest  faults.  To  the  last  he  denied  the  existence 
of  a  God,  and  said  that  he  had  found  it  very  easy  to  prac- 
tice virtue  without  the  aid  of  religion.  *  I  have  always 
maintained  a  good  character,'  said  he,  i  and  have  amassed 
a  good  fortune;    what  more  do  I  need?'  "     Portius  shud- 


196  LETTER  XXVII. 

dered  at  these  words.  He  waited  for  the  investigation  of 
his  brother's  affairs,  and  learned  that  all  his  wealth  had 
been  swallowed  up  in  gradual  dissipation.  It  was  Marcus' 
custom  to  talk  of  his  former  reputation  for  sobriety,  until 
he  had  lost  it  so  entirely  in  progressive  habits  of  dissipation, 
that  even  his  friends  smiled  at  his  self-complacent  boastings. 
But  no  one  ventured  to  undeceive  him :  that  would  have 
been  the  part  of  Christian  friendship.  He  died  without 
having  his  eyes  opened  to  the  error  of  his  ways ;  and  Por- 
tius  lived  to  give  ample  testimony  of  the  power  of  religious 
principle,  over  innate  propensities  or  acquired  habits  of 
vice. 

Look  abroad,  and  see  if  there  are  no  Marcuses  near  us  ! 
Adieu,  my  dear  girl,  I  am 

Ever  yours. 


LETTER  XXYII. 

Prevailing  Errors  in  Female  Education. 
My.  Dear  Mary, 

Women  whose  lots  are  cast  in  the  higher  walks  of  life, 
have  one  talent  which  they  may  use  for  the  benefit  of  thou- 
sands; I  mean  influence.  It  is  to  be  lamented  that  our 
fashionable  ladies  are  far  more  intent  upon  misleading  than 
benefiting  their  fellow  beings,  by  the  use  of  this  talent. 
Instead  of  setting  an  example  of  moderation  in  expense  and 
luxury,  they  lavish  their  wealth  upon  a  thousand  useless, 
not  to  say  pernicious  things.  If  ladies  in  the  high  circles 
of  life  would  practise  forbearance  and  economy  in  their  per- 
sonal expenses;  if  they  would  live  plainly,  dress  unostenta- 
tiously, and  give  their  superfluities  to  charitable  institutions, 


LETTER   XXVII.  197 

there  would  doubtless  be  a  general  improvement  of  the 
aspect  of  things  in  this  our  world  ;  but  we  see  nothing  so 
praiseworthy  in  their  conduct.  The  rich  have  no  more  to 
give  away  than  the  poor,  for  their  wants  are  so  exorbitant 
that  the  gifts  of  providence,  however  lavish,  prove  barely 
sufficient  to  gratify  them.  Could  not  this  evil  be  amended  ? 
Suppose  our  leaders  of  the  ion  could  be  made  aware  that 
extravagant  apparel  does  not  make  them  more  attractive  in 
the  eyes  of  the  nice-judging,  would  they  not  abate  something 
from  their  superfluities,  to  throw  a  mite  into  the  Lord's 
treasury?  Or,  is  there  really  so  much  rational  enjoyment 
in  superabundant  decoration,  that  it  cannot  be  renounced  ? 
Suppose  each  female  was  to  enter  into  a  strict  calculation 
of  the  expense  of  some  superfluous  article,  and  inquire 
seriously  of  her  heart  and  understanding,  whether  she  could 
not  be  just  as  happy  without  it,  as  with  it?  This  species 
of  investigation  would  lead  females  to  form  some  estimate 
of  the  yearly,  monthly,  daily  cost  of  their  extrinsic  decora- 
tions. At  present,  they  thoughtlessly  follow  the  multitude 
to  do  evil,  or  rather,  I  fear  I  must  say,  that  they  only  follow 
the  beaten  track  of  vanity,  into  which  their  mothers  took 
care  to  lead  them  from  childhood.  Alas  !  that  the  rising 
generation  should  have  to  endure  the  accumulated  follies  of 
the  by-past  age,  from  the  consequences  of  which  so  many 
are  now  suffering.  But  I  repeat  the  assertion,  that  unless 
women  of  wealth  and  high  station  in  society  will  consent  to 
use  their  influence  to  exterminate  this  evil,  there  is  no  know- 
ing how  far  it  will  advance  in  another  age.  Let  them  but 
magnanimously  strip  ofT  their  redundant  decorations,  and 
set  an  example  of  plainness  in  apparel;  for  instance,  the 
quantity  of  silk  now  requisite  to  make  a  dress,  is  said  to 
be  eighteen  or  twenty  yards  ;  more  than  half  of  this  is 
frittered  away  in  flounces,  arranged  tier  above  tier,  till  they 
reach  the  knee.  I  would  propose  to  some  lady  who  is  high 
in  station,  to  resolve  on  an  instantaneous  abridgment  of 
R  2 


198  LETTER  XXVII. 

these  decorations.  Let  her  but  appear  in  a  dress  without 
flounces,  and  declare  to  her  followers  and  satellites,  that  she 
intends  clothing  the  indigent  from  the  trappings  of  the 
vain,  and  I  doubt  not  but  her  example  will  prove  contagious. 
But  at  present,  the  rich  and  distinguished  come  forth  so 
magnificently  equipped,  that  all  the  weak  and  vain  are 
excited  to  emulation.  They  look  on,  half-admiring,  half 
envying,  and  sigh  to  think  that  fortune  has  denied  them  the 
privilege  of  adorning  their  perishing  bodies  with  gaudy  or 
expensive  clothing ;  and  this  folly  will  continue,  while 
females  who  have  influence  refuse  to  exert  it  for  the  im- 
provement of  their  fellow  beings.  I  know  that  many 
would-be  modest  women,  will  disclaim  the  pre-eminence 
assigned  to  them,  and  will  deny  that  they  have  sufficient 
influence  to  do  this  good.  But  let  them  try,  and  let  them 
examine  into  the  present  state  of  things,  and  inquire 
whether  they  are  not  now  influencing  some  of  their  friends 
and  acquaintances  to  follow  fashion,  or  to  commit  excesses 
in  extravagance.  There  are  women  in  the  world  too,  to 
whom  God  has  given  personal  beauty — that  most  precarious 
boon.  Suppose,  instead  of  misusing  or  abusing  this  gift, 
they  were  to  apply  it  to  the  purpose  of  increasing  their 
influence,  and  enlarging  their  means  of  doing  good.  And 
here  again,  I  must  break  a  lance  with  the  mothers  of  the 
present  day.  They  nurture  their  beautiful  daughters  in 
vanity,  and  I  am  afraid  I  must  say  folly,  for  I  can  think  of 
no  softer  word.  Instead  of  training  them  to  regard  perso- 
nal charms  as  a  snare,  to  escape  which  they  must  lay  up  a 
double  stock  of  good  sense  and  discretion,  they  deepen  the 
pit,  and  lead  their  helpless  offspring  blindfold  into  its 
bosom.  Oh,  how  many  have  been  irreparably  lost  to  all 
that  is  rational  and  valuable  in  life,  by  the  incautious  vanity 
of  those  whom  years  should  have  trained  to  greater  wis- 
dom. I  do  know  to  a  certainty,  that  a  mother  may  educate 
a  beautiful  daughter,  so  as  to  make  her  all  that  a  discreet, 


LETTER  XXVII.  199 

amiable,  unpretending  woman  should  be.  It  is  only  pointing 
out  to  her  the  precarious  nature  of  the  gift  she  possesses. 
Only  warning  her  against  the  snares  that  will  be  laid  to 
entrap  her,  on  her  entrance  into  life.  Only  cultivating  her 
mind  even  more  assiduously  than  if  she  was  deficient  in 
personal  charms,  for  she  has  greater  need  of  a  strong  intel- 
lect, to  enable  her  to  detect  the  illusions  and  spells  that  will 
be  cast  around  her.  Tell  her  in  childhood — "  You  will 
probably  be  handsome  when  you  grow  up ;  and  you  will 
meet  with  flatterers  who  will  exaggerate  your  attractions, 
and  strive  to  make  you  overvalue  them.  Endeavour  to 
guard  against  these  snares.  Remember  how  uncertain  is  the 
duration  of  those  charms,  which  a  fever,  or  a  disease  of  any 
other  kind,  can  wither  in  a  day.  Think  you  that  beauty 
lessens  your  accountability  at  the  throne  of  heaven?  Think 
you  that  he  whose  eyes  search  your  heart,  will  be  attracted 
by  your  extrinsic  graces?  Keep  in  mind,  that  pride  and 
vanity  are  the  sins  of  your  nature,  and  that  both  these  are 
fostered  by  the  possession  of  beauty,  unless  it  is  accompa- 
nied with  sound  sense  and  discretion.  Think,  while  your 
flatterers  are  sounding  praises  in  your  ear,  of  that  honest 
hour  when  you  will  be  compelled  to  surrender  these  transi- 
tory advantages — the  hour  of  death.  How  will  you  feel, 
when  the  last  pangs  of  nature  rack  your  dissolving  taber- 
nacle, if  you  have  to  look  back  upon  a  life  misspent  in  folly 
and  vanity  ?7; 

With  such  representations  as  these,  frequently  and 
honestly  made,  the  greatest  beauty  may  be  preserved  from 
the  pervading  contagion  of  vanity.  But  this  is  far  different 
from  the  plan  of  most  American  mothers.  They  are  them- 
selves intoxicated  with  reflected  vanity.  Every  act  of 
maternal  kindness,  is  mingled  with  the  poison  of  adulation. 
The  expanding  belle  sees  herself  the  object  of  unlimited 
attention.  Every  hour  brings  an  accession  to  her  self-import- 
ance.    She  finds  herself  exalted  above  her  plain  or  homely 


^00  LETTER  XXVn. 

sisters  or  companions.  Is  it  not  perfectly  natural  that  she 
should  set  an  undue  value  upon  that  which  her  parents 
think  of  such  importance?  and  is  it  not  also  evident,  that  if 
those  parents  were  to  speak  rationally  before  her,  and  set 
beauty  in  its  proper  place  in  their  own  estimation,  that  she 
would  spontaneously  imbibe  their  opinions,  and  make  up 
her  own  judgment  accordingly  ?  Affectionate  parents  can 
make  their  children  believe  whatever  truths  they  please  to 
inculcate. 

A  handsome  woman,  without  vanity  or  inordinate  preten- 
sions, will  (if  she  is  otherwise  amiable)  acquire  influence  in 
society  unconsciously  to  herself.  Beauty  finds  an  advocate 
in  almost  every  bosom,  when  accompanied  with  those  moral 
and  intellectual  qualities  which  are  essential  to  excellence. 
But  when  alloyed  with  [affectation  and  self-esteem,  it  only 
meets  the  applause  of  foolish  people.  I  have  known  so 
many  instances,  in  which  personal  beauty  has  proved  a 
snare  to  its  possessor,  that  I  own  I  do  not  covet  it  for  those 
I  love.  There  are  so  many  things  to  fear,  where  this  pre- 
carious boon  of  nature  is  overvalued,  that  life  is  deprived  of 
half  its  most  innocent  pleasures.  Sickness,  and  above  all, 
old  age,  with  many  other  things  to  tedious  to  mention,  are 
so  many  sources  of  disquietude  to  the  self-important  belle. 
And  when  she  marries,  she  either  continues  to  consider  her- 
self an  idol  to  be  worshipped,  instead  of  a  rational  compan- 
ion to  be  esteemed  ;  or  she  sinks  into  melancholy  moping, 
from  the  disappointment  of  her  ill-founded  hopes  of  happi- 
ness. Having  always  considered  herself  a  creature  above 
the  common  grade  of  humanity — a  vessel  made  of  the  por- 
celain clay  of  the  earth,  and  not  intended  for  ordinary  uses, 
— her  mind  is  in  a  state  of  unnatural  inflation.  She  cannot 
sink  to  her  own  level,  but  remains  buoyed  up  on  the  waves 
of  vanity,  until  she  is  fairly  wrecked  against  that  well-known 
rock  called  vexation  of  spirit.  Oh,  how  many  bitter  drops 
do  parents  infuse  into  the  cup  of  earthly  prosperity,  ere  it  is 


LETTER  XXVII.  201 

presented  to  the  lips  of  their  offspring,  by  fostering  qualities 
which  should  be  sedulously  repressed,  and  neglecting  to 
cultivate  those  on  which  the  rational  enjoyment  of  life  de- 
pends. Women  should  be  formed  from  the  cradle,  for  the 
fulfilment  of  their  appointed  duties.  The  term  usually 
allotted  to  female  education,  is  too  brief  at  best,  even  sup- 
posing that  nothing  but  useful  things  were  taught.  Can  it 
then  be  wonderful  that  the  sex  prove  unfitted  for  the 
rational  business  of  life,  when  they  spend  the  short  season 
of  youth  in  acquiring  what  they  have  to  forget  or  unlearn  in 
after  years  ?  Mothers  strangely  neglect  instructing  their 
daughters  in  domestic  arts  and  domestic  economy.  Your 
mother,  my  dear  Mary,  must  be  excepted  from  this  censure. 
I  know  you  are,  even  now,  expert  in  the  culinary  art,  and 
in  every  possible  use  of  the  needle  and  scissors.  I  remember 
her  telling  me  that  you  rose  with  the  dawn,  and  overlooked 
every  department  of  household  management.  That  you 
strained  the  milk,  weighed  the  butter,  measured  the  meal 
and  flour, — nay,  (do  not  blush  my  dear  girl,)  that  you  even 
fed  the  fowls  and  fattening  pigs  with  your  own  delicate 
hands.  I  know  too,  that  the  same  hands  touch  the  piano 
with  taste  for  the  amusement  of  a  friend,  and  wield  the  pen- 
cil for  your  pastime.  I  am  aware  too,  that  you  keep  regular 
accounts  of  all  your  expenditure,  and  often  deny  yourself ) 
that  you  may  aid  the  good  cause. 

These  are  but  your  plain  and  obvious  duties,  my  dear 
girl,  and  I  do  not  mention  them  as  any  thing  unusually 
praiseworthy.  Were  you  to  do  less,  you  would  infallibly 
incur  the  censure  of 

Your  own  and  your  mother's  friend. 


(  202   ) 

LETTER  XXVIII. 

Domestic  Management. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

As  others  besides  yourself  may  read  the  hints  I  am  now 
throwing  together  for  your  benefit,  I  will  consider  at  greater 
length,  the  subject  of  domestic  management. 

I  know  it  is  unnecessary  to  exhort  you  to  regard  in  an 
especial  manner  the  comfort  of  your  domestics  ;  but  when  I 
look  around,  and  see  the  abuses  sanctioned  by  custom  in  our 
state  of  society,  I  tremble  for  the  future  responsibility  of  my 
countrymen  and  women.  Slavery  is  indeed  a  fearful  evil; 
a  canker  in  the  bud  of  our  national  prosperity  ;  a  bitter 
drop  in  the  cup  of  domestic  felicity.  But,  like  all  other 
evils,  it  admits  of  mitigation.  It  is  surely  the  part  of  wisdom 
to  apply  such  remedies  as  our  situation  affords,  to  this  great 
and  obvious  impediment  to  our  national  and  individual  hap- 
piness. I  blush  for  my  countrymen  and  their  female  coad- 
jutors, when  I  see  instances  of  thoughtless  inattention,  or 
cruel  neglect,  of  the  comfort  of  our  helpless  fellow  beings. 
God  has  pleased  to  suffer  this  state  of  things  among  us,  but 
I  shudder  to  think  how  few  are  sensible  of  the  responsibility 
they  incur,  by  holding  their  fellow  creatures  in  abject  and 
despotic  subjection.  Until  heavenly  Mercy  sees  fit  to 
remove  this  our  great  national  evil,  it  surely  becomes  our 
duty  to  consider  the  subject  prayerfully,  in  all  its  bearings. 
It  is  true,  we  are  no  way  to  blame  for  this  state  of  things. 
We  may  rank  this  misfortune  among  the  tender  mercies  of 
our  parent  country,  who  inflicted  it  upon  us,  to  answer  her 
own  interested  ends.  But  we  should  not  plunge  into  an 
abyss,  because  we  find  ourselves  standing  on  its  brink;  nor 
should  we  rashly  incur  the  penalty  of  a  violated  law,  because 


LETTER  XXVIII.  203 

we    are  placed  in  circumstances  which    make  it  hard  to 
observe  that  law  strictly. 

But  of  the  consequences  arising  from  slavery,  one  of  the 
most  pernicious  and  least  noticed,  is  its  effect  on  the  female 
temper.  I  acknowledge  it  is  hard  to  bear  with  patience  the 
trials  incident  to  domestic  life  in  Virginia,  but  I  sincerely 
wish  my  countrywomen  were  aware,  that  they  may  and 
must  be  borne.  The  obligation  to  bear  them  is  imperative, 
because  it  involves  the  eternal  happiness  of  every  individual. 
Awful  indeed  will  be  the  condition  of  those  slave-holders, 
who  have  abused  the  trust  reposed  in  them,  and  ill-treated 
the  creatures  committed  to  their  charge.  I  know  cruelty  to 
slaves  is  not  now  as  common  as  it  has  been.  The  progress 
of  civilization,  and  above  all,  of  gospel  light,  has  taught 
many  people  their  duty  on  this  momentous  subject.  But 
alas  !  I  am  forced  to  acknowledge,  that  I  am  acquainted 
with  some  strong  cases  in  which  this  abuse  is  still  tolerated 
in  society.  It  is  not  very  long  since  I  detected  a  young  and 
beautiful  female  in  inflicting  corporal  chastisement  with  her 
own  hands,  and  in  severe  measure,  upon  a  woman  older  by 
many  years  than  herself.  "  Tell  it  not  in  Gath J"  lest  it 
give  our  maligners  just  occasion  to  cast  further  and  more 
direful  aspersions  upon  us.  But  I  trust  these  instances  are 
rare,  and  public  opinion  throws  immeasurable  obloquy  upon 
them.  But  the  minor  evils  most  common  among  us,  are 
unfortunately  of  a  nature  to  pass  without  observation  or 
censure.  They  are  done  in  a  corner,  and  besides  are  done 
so  generally,  that  custom  has  cast  a  veil  over  them,  and 
almost  sanctioned  their  continuance.  How  common  is  it 
for  a  mistress  of  a  family  to  restrain,  in  a  manner  bordering 
on  cruelty,  the  poor  abject  dependant  upon  her  authority. 
It  is  easy  enough  to  point  out  the  master  error,  which  occa- 
sions these  domestic  afflictions.  The  habit  of  despotism  is 
formed  almost  in  infancy.  The  child  is  allowed  to  tyrannize 
over  the  unfortunate  menial  appointed  to  gratify  its  wants. 


204  LETTER  XXVIII. 

Parents  allow  this  abuse  of  power,  without  being  aware  of 
its  fatal  tendency.  Self-will  is  fostered  from  the  very  cradle, 
and  becomes,  in  after  life,  the  only  rule  of  exaction  from  the 
wretched  beings  who  are  trained  to  minister  to  this  over- 
mastering sin.  "  You  are  to  do  this  because  I  will  it"  is 
the  dictim  of  the  tyrant.  Instead  of  training  servants  to  do 
the  will  of  God,  they  are  forced  to  do  the  will  of  their 
earthly  masters,  even  when  that  will  is  openly  opposed  to 
the  divine  laws.  Are  not  our  servants  compelled  by  our 
authority  to  break  the  Sabbath?  Do  we  not  require  services 
from  them  on  that  day,  in  open  violation  of  the  spirit  of  the 
fourth  commandment  ?  Do  we  not  daily  put  strong  tempta- 
tion in  their  way,  to  break  almost  all  the  laws  of  the 
Supreme  Being  ?  The  very  homage  that  we  exact  from 
these  forlorn  and  helpless  beings,  occasions  a  breach  of  the 
two  first  commandments  ;  for  the  implicit  obedience  and 
abject  submission  we  require,  must  perforce  impel  them  to 
violate  the  spirit  of  these  commands.  Again  the  incessant 
provocation  heaped  upon  their  undisciplined  tempers,  too 
often  forces  them  to  take  the  holy  name  of  God  in  vain  ; 
and  if  this  is  done  in  our  presence,  we  think  more  of  the 
disrespect  offered  to  our  persons,  than  the  awful  guilt  com- 
mitted in  the  sight  of  God.  I  do  not  make  this  assertion 
without  sufficient  warrant.  A  professor  once  reproved  his 
servant  in  my  presence,  for  being  guilty  of  using  unholy 
language  before  his  earthly  master,  while  not  a  word  was 
said  of  the  still  greater  offence  committed  against  the  unseen 
Jehovah. 

To  proceed  regularly  with  this  examination. — Do  mas- 
ters enforce  the  holy  law  of  obedience  to  parents,  among 
their  servants?  I  greatly  fear  not.  They  care  little  how 
these  wretched  people  perform  their  relative  duties,  if  the 
paramount  one  of  obedience  to  their  master  is  duly  per- 
formed. They  even  sanction  neglect  and  undutifulness  to 
parents,  by  utterly  omitting  to  train  the  children  of  their 


LETTER  XXVIII.  205 

slaves  in  these  moral  observances.     The  common  vice  of 
theft  is  almost  inculcated,  by  putting  temptation  in  their 
way,  and  denying  to  the  natural  cravings  of  appetite,  all  but 
a  pittance  of  coarse  nutriment.     How  often  does  the  attend- 
ant on  a  well  supplied  table,  see  dainties  swallowed  by  his 
luxurious  master,  almost  to  surfeit  or  satiety,  without  sharing 
any  but  the  most  essential  aliment  ?  Can  it  be  wonderful,  that 
he  should  gratify  his  excited  appetites  clandestinely  ?  Again, 
we  may  be  said  to  prompt  the  breach  of  the  seventh  com- 
mandment, by  our  indifference  in  maintaining  the  conjugal 
union  among  our  servants :  husband  and  wife  are  too  often 
separated  for  very  inadequate  causes.    Perhaps  a  momentary 
pique  against  one  party, occasions  the  irrevocable  dissolution 
of  a  union  which  ought  to  be  held  sacred  among  all  condi- 
tions of  mankind.     It  may  be  plead  in  extenuation,  that 
these  people  have  not  a  proper  value  for  such  moral  obliga- 
tions.    But  have  we  laboured  to  give  it  them  ? — have  we 
scrupulously  instructed  them  in  the  nature  of  these  duties? 
If  not,  we  have  no  right  to  complain  of  their  being  disre- 
garded.    We  cannot  expect  our  domestics  not  to  covet  their 
neighbour's  goods,  when  we  take  care  to  display  our  abun- 
dance to  their  eyes,  without  gratifying  even  their  most 
imperious  wants.     Nor  can  we  wonder  that  the  virtue  of 
truth  is  so  little  regarded  among  them.     The  nature  of  the 
training  they  receive  from   infancy,  tends  directly  to  the 
formation  of  habits  of  deceit  and   falsehood.      They  are 
driven  to  exert  all  their  inherent  cunning  to  avoid  some  of 
the  numberless  penalties  we  inflict  upon  them.     If  we  give 
them  no  higher  motive  for  virtue  than  the  hope  of  pleasing 
a  capricious  despot,  whose  will  changes  oftener  than  they 
can  be  prepared  to  gratify  it,  how  can  we  expect  any  sort 
of  excellence  from  them  ?  While  the  fear  of  corporal  punish- 
ment is  their  only  incentive  to  obedience,  we   must  not 
wonder  at  their  contrivances  to  evade  our  arbitrary  exac- 
tions.    All  that  cunning  can  prompt,  and  a  total  disregard 
S 


206  LETTER  XXVIII. 

of  principle  can  accomplish,  will  be  put  in  force  against  their 
legitimate  tyrants. 

But  the  daily  and  hourly  indulgence  of  peevishness  and 
irritability  of  temper  towards  these  people,  is  the  cause  of 
much  misery  in  the  world.  Slaves  cannot  resist  any  sort 
of  oppression.  The  domestic  circle  is  too  often  a  scene  of 
self-indulgence,  which  should  put  to  shame  the  greatest  lati- 
tudinarian  in  morals.  All  the  concentrated  gall  of  an 
imbittered  temper  is  poured  forth  without  restraint,  for  the 
inmates  of  the  domestic  sanctuary  are  helpless  sufferers, 
who  rather  provoke  than  repel  the  most  tyrannical  aggres- 
sions. Children  learn  to  nourish,  instead  of  subduing  self- 
will  ;  for  the  menials  of  the  nursery  dare  not  resist  its  des- 
potism. Often  does  a  gray  head  endure  the  violence  of 
childish  wrath,  without  redress.  But  the  most  deadly  of  all 
pernicious  habits,  is  that  of  putting  young  slaves  to  be  com- 
panions of  young  children.  The  infant  despot  enforces 
his  lawless  authority  over  his  allotted  victim,  and  thus 
encourages  all  the  most  malignant  vices  of  his  nature.  Oh, 
that  I  had  eloquence  enough  to  persuade  the  mothers  of 
Virginia,  to  rescue  their  beloved  offspring  from  this  terrific 
evil.  Let  them  keep  their  children  from  this  contagion, 
and  never  leave  them  in  the  power  of  their  slaves.  It  is 
very  easy  to  inculcate  a  proper  way  of  thinking  on  this  sub- 
ject. Children  should  be  made  sensible  of  the  unfortunate 
situation  of  this  portion  of  their  fellow  beings.  They  should 
never  be  allowed  to  dictate  in  any  thing  themselves.  Their 
parents  should  direct  the  requisite  degree  of  superintendence 
on  their  offspring,  and  this  should  be  the  least  degree  possi- 
ble. Mothers  should  always  dress  and  undress  their  own 
children,  unless  they  chance  to  have  really  conscientious  and 
well-principled  servants,  such  as  I  have  sometimes  seen. 
Children  should  be  taught  to  wait  upon  each  other,  as  soon 
as  they  are  old  enough  to  give  the  requisite  assistance  recip- 
rocally.    A  peremptory  order  should  never  be  given  by  a 


LETTER  XXVIII.  207 

child  to  a  slave;  on   the   contrary,  the   most  scrupulous 
politeness  should  be  exacted  from  the  younger  members  of 
the  family,  towards  the  grown  servants.     All  familiarity 
should  be  prohibited,  but  at  the  same  time   the   reasons 
of  this  prohibition  should  be   made  manifest.     "  ?Tis  not 
because  they  are  slaves,  (should  be  said,)  but  because  they 
are  uneducated,  unprincipled  people,  that  you  are  instructed 
to  avoid  them.     You  are  kept   away  for  the  same  reason 
from  dissolute,  unprincipled  white  people.  Children  are  apt 
to  catch  bad  habits  ;  therefore,  while  you  are  a  child,  I  must 
keep  you  from  bad  examples.  But  you  must  pity  these  peo- 
ple while  you  avoid  them.     It  is  not  their  fault,  but  their 
misfortune,  that  they  have  not  been  instructed  as  you  have 
in  morals  and  religion.    Pity  them,  therefore,  and  do  all  you 
canto  promote  their  comfort  and  happiness;  but  at  your 
time  of  life,   you  should  associate  with   people  who  can 
improve  you,  not  with  those  who  would  cause  you  to  fall  off 
from  the  improvement  you  have  already  acquired."     Such 
language   would   have    the  desired   effect    upon    children. 
They  should  also  be  encouraged  to  contribute  their  little 
mite  towards  the  comfort  of  the  dependants  of  the  family  : 
the  old  and  destitute — the  sick  and  helpless.     Such  offices 
enlarge  the  heart,  and  inculcate  humanity.     It  is  a  good 
practice    in   a  family  of  children,  to    keep   them    during 
their  leisure  hours,  at  work  for  the  infants  and  the  old  peo- 
ple among  the  slaves.     Parents  should  scrupulously  avoid 
reproving  their  servants  before  children,  unless  they  can  do 
it  with  proper  solemnity  and  self-command.     It  is  grievous 
to  think   how  many   female  tempers  are    destroyed,   by 
indulging  their  acrid  humours,  where  they  can  be  indulged 
with  impunity.     I  greatly  fear  that  our  national  misfortune 
has  sent  many  an  accountable  soul  to  its  last  audit,  with  a 
weight  of  crime  that  never  could  be  cancelled. 

It  is  too  true,  that  women  allow  themselves  to  be  fretted 
aX  trifles;  that  they  are  prone  to  fall  into  the  pernicious 


208  LETTER  XXVIII. 

habit  of  suffering  their  tempers  to  blaze  out  on  every  occa- 
sion that  can  elicit  provocation.     This  incessant  fever  of 
the  soul  wears  out  the   constitution,  and  furrows  the  face 
with  wrinkles  before  the  meridian  of  life  is  attained.     Ill- 
temper,  I  regret  it,  is  the  scourge  of  woman  !  There  are  so 
many  modes  of  self-indulgence  emanating  from  that  source, 
that  the  moralist  can  scarcely  enumerate  them.     Peevish- 
ness, impatience,    passion,  suspicion,  all  have    alternate 
sway;  and  sometimes  envy,  that  malignant  gnome,  whose 
influence  is  deadly  to  the  benign  and  social  affections, — 
finds  admittance  through  the  turbid  waters  of  domestic  strife. 
I  will  not  speak  of  jealousy,  save  to  remark,  that  it  is  the 
deadliest  foe  to  peace  that  ever  broke  from  the  pit  where 
human  vices  are  nurtured.    Oh,  that  women  would  listen  to 
the  voice   of  warning,  and  turn  their  undivided   energies 
against  their  bosom  sins.    The  author  of  all  good  has  placed 
them  in  retirement,  let  them  not  pollute  the  sanctuary  chosen 
to  shield  them  from  a  dangerous  world,  with  evils  sufficient 
to  destroy  the  very  germ  of  happiness   for  ever.     Small 
indeed,   are   the   beginnings  of  that  potent  instrument  of 
misery ;  but   habit  strengthens  every  vice,  and  brings  the 
weakest,  in  time,  to  an  equality  with  the  most  powerful. 
Impatience  of  temper  is  usually  considered  a  trifling  evil. 
I  once  heard  a  lady  assert,  that  her  temper  was  not  bad,  it 
was  only  impatient,  and  she  did  not  think  that  defect  very 
important;  but  alas!  in  this  instance,  as  in  many  others, 
she  circumscribed  her  means  of  usefulness  and  happiness, 
by  indulging  what  might  soon  have    been   conquered    by 
steady  resistance.     Peevishness   is  also  slightly   regarded. 
They  say  it  is  the  natural  attendant  of  sickness,  and  must  be 
excused;  but  while  reason  endures,  it  should  be  found  at  its 
post.     It  should  be  put  forth  against  the  errors  existing  in 
the  character.    How  much  are  human  sufferings  aggravated 
by  peevishness;  and  how  miserable  is  the  condition  of  those 
who  are  doomed  to  watch  by  the  sick  bed  of  a  peevish  per- 


LETTER  XXIX.  209 

son !  Depend  on  it,  an  ill-temper  is  one  of  the  devils  whose 
name  is  legion. 

I  once  heard  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel,  who  married  a 
bad-tempered  woman  on  purpose  to  try  himself.  It  was 
indeed  a  Roman  Catholic  penance,  or  rather  it  resembled 
the  tortures  that  the  Fakirs  of  India  inflict  on  themselves  in 
fanatical  frenzy.  An  undisciplined  temper  is  a  general  evil 
to  all  within  its  reach,  as  well  as  its  possessor.  It  is  a  fruit- 
ful source  of  misery  to  that  small,  quiet  circle,  where,  but 
for  it,  the  dove  of  peace  might  build  her  nest.  I  fear  the 
women  of  Virginia  are  rather  remarkable  for  this  defect ; 
because,  as  I  have  already  admitted,  their  peculiar  circum- 
stances bring  abundant  provocations  to  the  domestic  sanc- 
tuary. But  their  merit  will  be  the  greater,  when  they  have 
successfully  combatted  these  disadvantages.  Let  them  but 
call  in  religion,  the  author  of  peace,  to  their  aid,  and  I  can 
faithfully  promise  them  the  victory  in  every  conflict. 
Believe  me,  the  instrument  is  not  too  strong  for  the  occa- 
sion. If  inferior  agents  are  found  inadequate  to  effect  a 
purposed  good,  surely  it  is  the  part  of  wisdom  to  resort  to 
others  that  cannot  fail  to  prove  efficient.  Religion  is  the 
master  spring  of  human  virtue,  let  it  be  therefore  employed 
to  produce  the  paramount  blessing  of  a  good  temper. 

I  remain  ever  yours. 


LETTER  XXIX. 

Submission  to  the  Divine  Will. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

It  is  one  thing  to  know  the  will  of  God,  and  another  thing 
to  do  that   will.     The   essential  spirit  of  Christianity  is 
included  in  this  one  sentence — "  Thy  will  be  done."    A& 
s  2 


210  LETTER  XXIX. 

the  natural  man  owns  no  rule  of  action  but  his  own  will, 
so  does  the  Christian  acknowledge  none  but  the  will  of  his 
Maker.  And  yet  true  resignation  is  the  hardest  duty  to 
perform  that  has  ever  fallen  to  the  lot  of  man.  He  is 
always  labouring  at  absolute  submission,  but  when  he  has 
attained  it  in  one  instance,  he  finds  the  difficulty  as  great  on 
the  next  occasion.  Other  lessons,  when  once  learnt,  remain 
with  us;  but  this  must  be  learnt  anew  whenever  it  is  to  be 
practised.  And  here,  Mary,  it  gratifies  me  to  be  able  to 
give  honest,  well-merited  praise  to  the  female  sex.  Though 
their  sensibilities  are  more  tender  than  those  of  men,  they 
certainly  resign  themselves  to  the  will  of  God  with  truer 
and  more  heartfelt  submission.  Religion,  the  master  teacher 
of  every  virtue,  is  absolutely  essential  in  this  case.  She  has 
no  auxiliary  here;  no  artful  imitator,  or  skilful  substitute. 
Pride,  it  is  true,  wears  her  semblance  boldly  without ;  but 
a  glance  at  the  internal  state  reveals  the  utter  incapacity  of 
this  agent.  Yet  is  its  claim  often  asserted,  while  the  aching 
heart  denies  its  validity.  How  often  do  we  see  the  haughty 
spirit  enduring,  like  the  Indian  at  the  stakp,  with  unblanched 
cheek  and  changeless  eye,  the  agonies  which  fill  the  bosom 
with  wild  commotion.  The  proud  man  says  he  is  resigned, 
while  every  fibre  of  his  physical  system  thrills  responsively 
to  the  unmitigated  sorrows  of  his  heart.  The  Christian 
says  he  is  resigned,  while  the  undried  tear  is  on  his  cheek, 
for  God  has  spoken  peace  to  his  soul,  and  the  inward  storm 
of  grief  has  subsided.  All  is  calm  within  him,  and  the 
consolations  of  religion  are  already  shedding  their  sunshine 
on  the  departing  clouds  of  sorrow.  Unqualified  submission 
to  God  is  imperatively  required  of  his  people.  Faith  is 
imperfect  and  inefficient,  unless  accompanied  by  this  sub- 
mission. The  author  of  our  being  has  promised,  that  all 
things  shall  work  together  for  our  good,  if  we  surrender  our- 
selves entirely  to  his  will.  This  promise  does  not  imply  an 
exemption  from  trouble;  it  only  promises  that  trouble  shall 


LETTER    XXIX.  211 

be  overruled  for  our  benefit,  if  we  stand  still  and  see  the 
salvation  of  God. 

Many  weak  Christians  are  found  wanting  in  the  hour  of 
tribulation,  from  inability  to  surrender  themselves  as  they 
are  required  to  do.  They  drop  daily  from  their  tongues 
the  comprehensive  sentence — "  Thy  will  be  done,"  with- 
out having  even  considered  its  full,  impressive  import. 
They  daily  promise  to  do  his  will,  without  the  ability,  or 
perhaps  the  sincere  desire  to  fulfil  their  promise.  But  let 
us  reflect  that  these  four  monosyllables'  express  the  most 
exalted  act  of  faith,  and  the  most  comprehensive  promise  of 
unqualified  obedience.  When  we  repeat  this  sentence  we 
are  virtually  offering  to  give  up  our  dearest  possessions,  if 
his  will  should  require  them — (and  who  can  foresee  his 
requisitions?) — We  are  solemnly  renouncing  all  right  to 
think,  or  act,  or  even  to  feel  for  ourselves.  In  short,  what- 
ever may  have  been  our  views,  plans,  or  wishes,  as  relate 
to  worldly  things,  we  are  renouncing  all  for  the  will  of  God. 
There  are  some  paradoxes  in  Christianity,  but,  blessed  be 
our  Father,  there  are  no  contradictions.  When  we  are 
required  to  surrender  our  will,  we  are  made  free  from  the 
bondage  of  sin,  and  enabled  to  rejoice  in  the  liberty  pur- 
chased for  us  by  Christ.  To  be  able  to  do  the  will  of  God, 
is  freedom  in  itself;  for  until  ive  can  do  his  will,  we  are  the 
slaves  of  sin.  God  puts  this  acknowledgment  of  submission 
in  our  mouths,  that  we  may  fully  understand  our  duty,  and 
earnestly  require  divine  aid  in  performing  it.  "Enable  me 
to  do  thy  will,"  should  be  our  frequent  and  fervent  petition; 
but  oh  !  is  it  not  lamentable  to  reflect,  how  often  the  Lord's 
prayer  is  repeated,  without  the  smallest  weight  or  con- 
sideration being  attached  to  this  comprehensive  clause ! 

One  of  the  first  and  strongest  evidences  of  true  conversion 
is,  a  desire  to  know  and  do  God's  will.  St.  Paul  exclaimed, 
"  Lord,  what  wilt  thou  have  me  do  ?"  and  the  jailor  in- 
quired,  "  What  shall   I   do  to  be  saved  ?"     These  were 


212  LETTER  XXIX. 

signs  that  the  new  converts  were  not  only  willing,  but 
desirous  to  give  up  self-government,  and  resign  themselves 
implicitly  to  God.  The  example  of  the  apostle  is  indeed 
striking.  We  behold  him  as  a  Pharisee,  fiery,  impetuoas, 
cruel,  and  self-willed  :  we  see  him  as  a  Christian  convert, 
anxious  to  surrender  his  independence,  and  become  the 
submissive  servant  of  the  Lord.  And  here  let  us  consider 
die  meaning  of  a  term  in  very  common  use,  the  original 
sense  of  which  seems  to  have  been  forgotten.  Devotion 
implies  an  entire  surrender  of  all  that  constitutes  the  ac- 
countable being  to  the  great  Master  of  the  universe.  To 
devote  oneself,  means  to  give  up  one's  very  being  to  another ; 
but  we  hear  sometimes  of  the  devotion  of  persons,  who  have 
not  made  this  surrender.  True  devotion  pledges  the  indi- 
vidual to  an  unqualified  submission  of  his  will  to  God.  It 
does  not  consist  in  good  works  or  prayers,  and  any  specific 
act  of  duty;  but  it  demands  firmness  and  consistency  in 
following  the  known  path  of  duty,  however  repugnant  or 
distasteful  it  may  be  to  the  inclination.  It  implies  self- 
denial,  and  energy  in  the  performance  of  all  known  require- 
ments. It  always  comprehends  entire  submission  to  such 
adverse  events  as  God  may  please  to  send.  If  he  chooses 
to  deny  a  long  sought  and  ardently  desired  blessing — "  his 
will  must  be  done"  cheerfully  and  without  murmuring. 
Some  minds  have  a  strong  bias  towards  particular  duties, 
and  are  dull  and  cold  at  others  ;  but  we  are  required  to  do 
with  all  our  might,  what  is  set  before  us.  There  is  more 
real  devotion  in  treading  quickly  and  contentedly,  the 
unostentatious  path  of  plain,  every-day  duty,  than  in 
launching  forth  in  some  new  and  conspicuous  way  that  we 
have  fashioned  for  ourselves.  When  the  will  is  indeed 
devoted  without  reservation  to  its  lawful  ruler,  the  Holy 
Ghost  visits  the  heart  in  his  most  precious  character  of  com- 
forter. We  then  see  many  things  that  were  before  hidden 
from  our  view. 


LETTER  XXIX.  2J3 

We  remark  with  wonder,  the  many  strange  ways  by 
which   God  accomplishes  his  ends  with  us.     His  thoughts 
are  not  as  our  thoughts,  nor  can  we  possibly  discover  his 
intentions  by  any  visible  sign.     But  we  walk  by  faith,  and 
not  by  sight,  therefore  we  must  not  expect   to  be   made 
acquainted  with  what  the  Lord  intends  to  do  for  us.  Infidels 
assert,  that  it  is  strange  that  God  should  afflict  his  people, 
when  he  has  omnipotent  power,  and  can  make  all  things 
pleasant  to  them  ;  but  these  short  sighted  reasoners  forget 
that  this  world  is  but  a  passing  scene,  intended  as  a  proba- 
tionary state.   If  the  creatures  of  God  were  to  be  supremely 
happy  here,  they   would   be  unwilling  to  be  removed  to 
"  It  is  hard  and  cruel  that  these  people  should  be  taken 
away  from  happiness  :"  so  that  even  unbelievers  are  forced 
another  state.  The  opposers  of  Christianity  would  then  say, 
to  acknowledge  the  fitness  and  sufficiency  of  the  present 
plan.     But  the  view  that  the  true  Christian  takes  of  God, 
is  quite  satisfactory  to  his  heart  and  understanding.    He  has 
been  shown  that  he  is  vile  himself,  and  when  tribulation 
comes,  he  sees  in  Christ  a  remedy  for  this  vileness.    Afflic- 
tions are  often  appointed  to  save  us  from  adding  guilt  to 
misery,  by  bringing  them  on   ourselves.     Often,  when  the 
Christian  is  about  to  forget  himself  in  presperity  and  do 
some  wrong  thing,  the  rod  is  laid  smartly  on  him,  so  as  to 
disappoint  his  plan  of  iniquity.     He  falls  at  first  into  deep 
sorrow,  and  says,  "Why  is  it  thus?"  But  he  soon  discovers 
the  hidden  meaning  of  this   dispensation,  and  blesses  his 
Father  that  he  has  not  been  allowed  to  sin.     Any  thing  is 
better  for  the  true  Christian,  than  that  he  should  be  left  to 
himself  when  temptation   is  strong.     We  read  of  miracles 
ascribed,   by  erring   superstition,  to  the  fragments  of  the 
cross  on  which  the  Redeemer  suffered  :  but  when  we  look 
on  the  blessed  results  of  affliction,  the  only  true  relic  of 
that  cross,  we  see  a  yet  greater  work  performed.     We  are 
ready  to  declare  our  submission  to  Christ  j  but  if  he  was 


214  LETTER  XXIX. 

not  to  take  from  us  many  things  that  he  requires  us  to 
surrender,  we  should  find  it  impossible  to  perform  our 
promises.  Self-love  is  a  subtle  deceiver.  Often  do  we 
feel  resigned  to  dispensations  immediately  from  God  ;  but 
when  they  come  from  the  world,  we  are  apt  to  be  unruly, 
forgetting  that  he  appoints  these  as  well  as  the  others. 

We  sometimes  claim  merit  for  our  obedience,  when  it 
is  voluntary,  the  thing   being   perfectly  agreeable  to  our 
inclinations.     But  it  is  in   crossing  our  own  desires,  that 
our  love,  which  is  the   surest  test  of  obedience,  is  fully 
proved.     How  often  do  self-complacent  Christians  commit 
the  crime,  for  which  Ananias  and  Sapphira  were  doomed 
to   death.     They   pretend   to  give  up  all  their  will,   and 
they  retain  the  greater  part  of  it;  that  is  to  say,  they  pro- 
mise implicit  resignation,  and  yet  hold  fast  with  a  tenacious 
grasp,  many  things  that  they  are  required  to  surrender. 
"Unless  a  man  forsake  all  that  he  hath,  he  cannot  be  my 
disciple,"  is  the  declaration  of  our  Lord  himself.     In  the 
early  days  of  Christianity  this  was  literally  fulfilled.     The 
disciples  quitted  their  friends,  family,    employment,    and 
country,  to  follow  their  Master.     Christians  of  the  present 
day  have  only  to  forsake  their  will.     This  must  be  surren- 
dered without  reservation,  before  we  can  conscientiously 
say,    "  Thy  will  be  done."     I  hope,  my  dear  Mary,  that 
you  will  hereafter  repeat  this  sentence  with  a  better  and 
fuller  comprehension  of  its  import.     Women,  as  I  have 
already  said,  are  apt  scholars  in  the  school  of  adversity,  and 
it  is  one  of  the  blessed  advantages  of  their  state  of  subor- 
dination in  society,  that  they  are  often  required  to  surrender 
their  will  to  others.    None  but  weak  women  are  self-willed. 
The  very  first  sign  of  moral  and  intellectual  improvement 
in  the  sex,  is  a  readiness  to  give  up  what  is  generally  dear 
to  human  beings — their  own  will  and  wishes.    May  you  be 
eminent  in  the  practice  of  this  virtue,  my  dear  girl ;  I  can 
desire  nothing  better  for  you,  as 

Your  true  friend. 


(  215  ) 

LETTER  XXX. 

Conclusion. 

My  Dear  Mary, 

I  have  endeavoured  faithfully,  to  point  out  to  you  the 
relative  duties  of  your  sex,  in  the  sphere  which  they  fill  by 
omnipotent  decree.     A  quiet  submission  to  the  state  of  sub- 
ordination ordained  by  heavenly  wisdom,  will  ensure  them 
as  great  a  portion  of  happiness  as  human  nature  is  capable 
of  attaining.     I  never  desire  to  see  either  a  general  or  an 
individual  struggle  for  female  supremacy,  nor  even  for  per- 
fect equality.     Women  are  happiest  and  most  respectable 
just  where  Providence  has  placed  them.     The  better  they 
understand,  and  the  closer  they  adhere  to  this  providential 
allotment,  the  more  real  peace  they  will  enjoy.     All  devia- 
tions from  the  straight  path  of  duty,  under  whatever  pretext 
they  may    be  made,  must  terminate  in  misery.     I  never 
knew  an  instance  of  domestic  happiness,  or  even  pecuniary 
success,  where  the  female  head  usurped  dominion  over  her 
lawful  ruler.    Even  where  the  preponderance  of  understand- 
ing is  on  the  woman's  side,  her  government  cannot  be  pros- 
perous, because  she  is  violating  Scripture  law,  in  assuming 
supreme   power.      It    will    always  be    found,   that   strict 
adherence  to  the  humblest  and  most  adverse  path  of  duty, 
will  produce  happier  results  than  the  most  promising  and 
plausible  deviation  from  the  declared  will  of  God. 

I  had  rather  see  a  friend  of  mine  practising  rigid  obe- 
dience to  a  husband  who  was  obviously  incompetent  to  make 
a  judicious  ruler,  than  to  hear  her  applauded  for  assuming 
the  reigns  of  government  into  her  own  hands,  because  the 
whole  world  acknowledged  her  superiority.  This  much  I 
have  elsewhere  declared,  I  believe. 
I  ask  you,  my  dear  girl,  to  attend  particularly  to  my 


216  LETTER  XXX. 

injunctions  on  the  subject  of  temper.  Too  many  persons 
overlook  this  quality  as  an  inferior  consideration;  but  when 
we  see  how  great  a  portion  of  human  misery  is  daily 
resulting  from  this  source,  we  surely  cannot  be  excusable  in 
neglecting  it.  Meekness  of  temper  may  be  acquired  by  the 
most  turbulent  spirit;  for  it  is  one  of  the  most  prominent 
Christian  graces;  and  every  child  who  reads  the  Bible 
knows  how  those  graces  are  to  be  obtained.  Many  people 
say,  that  a  Virginia  housewife  is  compelled  to  a  high-spirited 
demeanour  in  the  exercise  of  her  arduous  prerogatives. 
There  never  was  a  greater  or  a  more  dangerous  error.  Gen- 
tleness is  perfectly  compatible  with  firmness;  and  I  know 
by  experience,  that  both  these  qualities  are  indispensable  in 
ruling  a  Virginia  household. 

The  peculiar  characteristics  of  the  domestics  over  whom 
they  bear  sway,  demands  a  perfect  exercise  of  self-command 
in  the  ruler.  Self-government  is  more  especially  necessary 
to  those  who  manage  servants  of  this  description,  than  to 
any  other  species  of  potentate  in  the  world.  Scolding 
effectually  destroys  domestic  peace,  and  it  effectuality  dis- 
qualifies a  woman  for  governing  her  family.  There  never 
was,  and  there  never  will  be  an  instance  of  successful 
management,  where  this  expedient  is  resorted  to  by  female 
rulers.  And  yet  many  sensible  women  fall  into  the  habit 
for  want  of  a  little  patience  in  the  beginning,  and  continue 
in  it  for  want  of  a  little  vigorous  self-exertion;  and  what  is 
worse,  they  palliate  their  error,  and  mislead  others  into 
supposing  it  absolutely  unavoidable. 

Many  persons  persist  in  faults  of  which  they  must  be 
inwardly  conscious,  because  they  want  resolution  to  break 
the  fetters  of  habit.  ,Some  misguided  people  imagine  that  a 
high  tone  of  command,  and  a  spirited  exercise  of  power,  are 
becoming  in  the  head  of  a  family.  Those  who  covet  dis- 
tinction, will  attract  attention  by  making  a  fuss.  They 
think  they  will  be  overlooked  in  the  quiet  nook  of  domestic 


LETTER  XXX.  217 

privacy,  unless  they  make  a  noise  to  draw  the  attention 
of  competent  judges  of  their  merits.  But  the  quiet  stream 
bears  as  great  a  volume  of  water  to  the  ocean  as  the  earth- 
quaking cataract;  and  woman,  in  silent  and  unostentatious 
retirement,  may  send  upwards  the  costly  incense  of  her 
heart  to  the  Author  of  her  being,  with  more  certainty  of 
acceptance,  than  when  she  is  swept  round  in  a  vortex  of 
worldly  pursuits. 

I  would  wish  you,  therefore,  to  prefer  retirement  as  most 
favourable  to  the  culture  of  feminine  graces  ;  but  should 
your  lot  be  cast  among  the  high  stationed  females  of  our  land, 
remember  the  prerogatives  of  your  sex.  These  may  be 
enjoyed  by  all  who  desire  them.  The  world  may  be  kept 
out  of  your  heart  by  devotion,  even  when  you  live  in  a 
crowd,  and  it  will  rind  entrance  into  an  unguarded  heart  in 
a  desart  or  an  hermitage.  Worldly  thoughts  and  passions 
abound  every  where,  nor  can  they  be  shut  out  by  the  mere 
drawing  a  curtain,  or  shutting  a  door.  They  are  the  chosen 
and  abiding  inmates  of  many  hearts,  and  they  are  not  to  be 
banished  by  secluding  the  person  from  company. 

But  these  are  favoured  individuals,  whose  principles  have 
been  tested  by  an  intercourse  with  mixed  society;  who  have 
possessed  their  souls  in  peace  amid  the  hurry  and  bustle  of 
busy  life.  These  favourites  of  heaven  have  shed  the  incense 
of  their  pure  thoughts  over  the  corrupt  atmosphere  of  fashion 
and  dissipation,  and  kept  themselves  unspotted  from  the 
world  in  the  very  centre  of  its  seductions.  And  they  have 
done  this  by  asserting  their  sexual  prerogatives.  They  have 
rejected  power,  for  they  have  no  scriptural  right  to  it.  They 
have  yielded  obedience  where  it  was  due,  though  they  might 
have  thrown  off  its  obligations.  They  have  shunned  the 
glare  of  publicity,  because  they  loved  to  shrink  into  conge- 
nial obscurity.  They  have  used  their  advantages  without 
abusing  them,  and  steadily  refused  to  unsex  themselves, 
Ebough  opportunities  have  offered  for  the  attainment  of 
T 


218  LETTER  XXX. 

invidious  notoriety.  At  the  same  time  their  own  quiet, 
unobtrusive  duties  have  been  rigorously  fulfilled  :  The 
obligations  of  charity,  coextensive  as  the  benevolence  of  their 
hearts — the  sweet  courtesies  of  social  life — the  gentle  inter- 
ference with  angry  spirits  for  the  purposes  of  peace-making 
— the  secret  prayer — the  deep  and  faithful  self-inspection 
— the  meek  surrender  of  all  contested  privileges — the  single- 
hearted  efforts  to  promote  the  glory  of  God,  and  cultivate 
good  will  among  men.  These  indeed  are  feminine  pursuits, 
and  their  sweet  incense  rises  to  heaven.  Compare  the 
characteristics  here  mentioned  as  exclusively  feminine,  with 
such  as  many  of  the  sex  love  to  appropriate  to  themselves : 
the  admiration  arising  from  distinction  in  fashionable  life, — 
the  cultivation  of  accomplishments  solely  calculated  for 
display, — the  enervating  pursuit  of  sentimental  frivolity,  or 
the  unbounded  love  of  dissipation, — novel  reading,  with  all 
its  seductive  accompaniments.  In  short,  a  volume  would 
not  suffice  to  enumerate  the  mistakes  prevailing  on  the 
subject  of  female  character  and  manners. 

Little  thought  is  wasted  by  mothers  upon  the  future 
destinies  of  their  daughters.  They  encourage  undefined 
hopes  of  their  success  in  life  without  any  distinct  preparation 
for  specific  duties.  They  wish  them  to  be  courted  and 
admired  in  youth,  and  comfortably  settled  in  life  with  good 
fortunes.  This  last  consideration  is  paramount  to  every 
other.  They  will  lead  them  to  encourage  rich  lovers,  with- 
out much  caring  for  their  mental  qualities.  Wealth  covers 
as  great  a  multitude  of  sins  from  worldly  eyes,  as  charity 
does  in  the  estimate  of  Christian  virtues.  When  girls  are 
married,  their  household  establishments  and  equipages  are 
objects  of  primary  importance.  Indeed,  the  same  false 
estimate  of  human  happiness  seems  to  prevail  throughout 
life,  and  many  people  die  without  having  discovered  that 
they  have  lived  for  nothing;  that  they  have  not  enjoyed  a 
single  real  good  in  existence. 


LETTER  XXX.  219 

In  the  characters  I  have  sketched  as  illustrations  of  my 
observations,  you  will  find  many  real  traits  of  human  nature, 
as  they  prevail  collectively,  not  individually.  Many  of  my 
strongest  warnings  are  drawn  from  a  faithful  recollection  of 
early  errors  of  my  own,  which  grace  has  happily  enabled 
me  to  correct.  I  have  ever  deemed  it  an  imperative 
Christian  duty  to  expose  candidly  to  our  friends  the  mistakes 
of  our  own  conduct.  This  is  the  proper  use  of  experience. 
We  should  not  be  ashamed  to  acknowledge  what  we  have 
been,  because  Christianity  teaches  us  that  all  are  radically 
bad;  neither  should  we  be  backward  in  proclaiming  the 
triumphs  of  that  grace,  which  we  profess  to  believe  universal 
in  its  application  to  the  errors  of  humanity. 

For  my  own  part,  I  hesitate  not  to  declare,  that  I  owe 
the  possession  of  every  trait,  which  approximates  towards 
virtue,  to  the  influence  of  Christianity  on  my  renewed  heart. 
I  had  many  things  from  nature  which  were  called  good, 
before  1  knew  what  real  goodness  was.  Since  conversion 
has  opened  my  eyes,  I  see  every  thing  through  a  new 
medium,  and  have  learned  to  form  an  entirely  new  estimate 
of  human  worth.  For  this  unmerited  mercy,  I  cannot  suffi- 
ciently glorify  the  Being  from  whom  I  have  received  it. 
My  thoughts  flow  forth  in  intense  desire  to  promote  his 
glory.  My  feelings  glow  with  ardent  aspirations  after  higher 
attainments  in  grace. 

Often,  in  the  silent  watches  of  the  night,  do  I  ask  my  heart, 
if  there  is  no  possible  mode  by  which  its  overflowing  grati- 
tude for  divine  mercy  can  be  expressed  ?  It  sometimes 
answers  with  promptings  which  tend  to  a  public  declaration 
of  the  individual  mercies  I  have  received.  I  dare  not  dis- 
obey these  warnings  of  the  Spirit.  Let  the  cold  in  heart 
stigmatize  me  as  an  enthusiast,  and  the  mere  worldling 
attribute  my  conduct  to  carnal  motives,  still  there  is  an 
Inward  evidence  that  my  impulses  come  from  above.     To 


220  LETTER  XXX. 

that  I  have  yielded  in  taking  up  my  pen  in  behalf  of  my 
sex,  and  of  that  religion  to  which  I  owe  every  thing. 

Let  it  not  be  thought  that  I  have  departed  from  my  own 
rules  of  feminine  propriety,  in  thus  braving  the  ordeal  of 
public  opinion,  as  an  author.  My  own  experience  has  been 
peculiar,  and  the  motive  which  prompts  my  present  under- 
taking is  one  which  I  dare  not  resist,  though  it  is  at  variance 
with  every  feminine  feeling  of  my  nature.  In  the  service 
of  religion  we  may  admit  the  innovation  of  established  rules. 
I  appeal  to  those  who,  like  me,  owe  every  moment  of  peace, 
every  feeling  of  virtue,  and  every  hope  of  future  bliss,  to 
religion,  for  their  support,  under  the  censures  of  the  fasti- 
dious, and  the  sneers  of  criticism,  to  their  sympathy — to 
their  true  Christian  charity — to  their  unprejudiced  judgments 
do  I  surrender  myself  unfearingiy  in  this  world,  and  to  the 
great  Author  of  my  salvation  in  the  world  to  come. 


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